Aftershock
by lizzieBdarcy
Summary: Set after Civil War, this story explores the after effects of a fractured team, a broken hero and the long road to recovery. It may include unexpected romance, it will definitely have angst, and in the end, The Avengers might just have to face their biggest fear: A world that just can't do without their superheros. I OWN NOTHING, I MIGHT SWITCH TO M IF SHIPS SET SAIL
1. Chapter 1

**This was a little idea that came to me when I was working on my other Marvel fic, "We talked about this." (If you haven't read it, I suggest you go do that now, because I like reviews and I will also give you a cookie if you do) Not entirely sure where this headed, mostly just thinking I would like to explore what happened after the events of Civil War. So lemme know in reviews what you would like to see or think should happen.**

"Has she said anything yet?"

Sam, arms folded and leaning against the doorjamb of the gym, shook his head.

"No. You know I would have come and grabbed you."

Sighing heavily, Steve ran a hand over the back of his scalp, scrubbing at his face wearily. When the action did nothing to soothe, he opted for pounding into the sand bag directly in front of him instead. He'd already broken two, and was seriously considering opting for another work out means all together. Still…

It felt good to hit something.

"I should have got back for you all sooner."

"Cap, this isn't on you. Even the great Captain America can't guilt himself for this one. A feat in itself, considering it's basically one of your super powers. They put _that_ in your fancy super serum?"

He managed a weak smile at Sam's teasing, but even that didn't last long. The news channels were hailing it as 'The Civil War' amongst the Avengers, he could go very few places without the government hearing about it, and most of his best friends were now in various forms of distress.

"Listen Man, we're grown ass superheroes. We knew what we were doing. And we'd do it again."

At that, Steve gave the bag one last sucker punch, sand immediately spilling forth from the hole he put in it. Bag number three was down for the count.

"Can Wanda say the same?"

Instead of going for a shower and and a nap like his body was begging for, (he'd been taking his frustrations out in the form of exercise for the last three hours solid) Steve went past the now silent Wilson and headed for Wanda's room, snagging a towel on his way out.

"The sun is shining today. I think you would like it. Not being in enclosed spaces.. If you wanted, I bet there's a park around, maybe we could find one." He'd spared just enough time to clean up in the ensuite attached to the room they'd given to the near comatose girl before stretching out beside her. Steve didn't sleep much these days, which is why he was most often the one to keep watch over Wanda. Or so he told himself.

The truth of the matter was, he was doing it out of guilt. He hadn't been there before, while he and Tony had their little showdown, Wanda had been in the raft. Subjected to unspeakable things, to the point that when he finally _had_ made it back for his team, she'd been in a straightjacket with an electro shock collar around her neck. That's what his country had done to the girl who helped save millions of lives. To an 18 year old young woman who was only just figuring out who she was, who ought to have been in classes or traveling or making dumb mistakes with friends.

Chained up like a dog.

 **She hadn't spoken a word since.** T'Challa's people didn't know what else to do, as physically she had healed well. Her vocal cords were undamaged, it was determined something else was what kept her from making any noises. The guys offered what meagre knowledge they had in an attempt to help. Each had been taken, one at a time, for interrogation. Each had different tactics used, designed to get them to talk. They'd heard Wanda screaming. They'd tried to get to her, and failed. Now,her mind was a vault, and none of them had the key to open the well guarded door.

Sam was as sarcastic as ever, but he'd done his best to keep everyone in high spirits. It hadn't really worked, but the effort was appreciated all the same.

Scott, still in awe at being included in the first place, was more annoyed by Sam and Clint ignoring him then anything. Steve was friendly, T'Challa tolerated him, and the others made a continuous joke of forgetting his name or even that he was there in the first place. When he was feeling more thoughtful, he showed them pictures of his daughter. Tasha had managed to get word to Maggie and Cassie, though he still wasn't sure what was in it for her. His ex-wife was actually proud of him for doing what he thought was the right thing. Cassie had drawn him a picture. He kept it framed, on his bedroom wall and no one so much as snickered.

Clint was angry. No, Clint was _furious_. The others knew better than to even mention the name Stark around him. He'd gotten word to Laura and the kids, thanks to Natasha who'd appeared just long enough to get them a few safe houses before vanishing once more.

Steve had tried to ask her what happened, after she'd helped he and Bucky escape. He'd tried to thank her.

"You could have ended up in the same place the others did. Not very secret agent-y of you." He'd scolded, as gently as possible. She _had_ come to help them after all. Before going to T'Challa, they'd needed a place to lay low awhile when waiting to get in contact. Natasha had offered that place, a couple of her long forgotten hidey holes became what they called home. One of them had even included a porch swing, the very one they'd spent a few nights rocking in together.

"I'm not a secret Agent anymore, remember? No other faces to hide behind." She replied, sipping her wine. He wasn't much of a drinker, but had accepted a glass to be polite. "Still. That took a lot of guts." He commented. She'd looked at him so strangely then…

And then she'd kissed him.

It wasn't like when they were on the run, or before Shield headquarters had been destroyed. He wasn't sure what it was like. It felt comfortable though. He responded in kind, something soft, a little wistful and tasting of white wine.

"You're a good man Steve. Promise me you won't forget that."

She'd been so serious, but when was she not? He remembered the easy teasing between them, he remembered a lot of days gone by when things were easy. She'd been there when Peggy died too, holding him together, keeping watch so that The Great Captain America might be a heartbroken Steve Rogers. His sadness wasn't for himself then. It was for his friend, who'd been forced into exile because she finally had given herself permission to care.

"I promise." He'd meant it too, at the time.

 **Now, though, it was a lot harder to remember.** Not when he was still trying to find a way out of all this, when he missed Tony more than he would admit to the others. Stark was a cocky bastard, but beneath that his heart had been in the right place. He'd been just as lost and worried as the others, he'd just.. Chosen the more difficult way to go about dealing with it.

At the end of the day, Steve missed his oddball family, his ragtag team. He'd gone Rogue, was best friends with a public enemy. He wouldn't change what he'd done, and would live with the 'd decided that before all this began.

But he hurt all the same.


	2. Chapter 2: Check in

**So now we see a little Tony, because no story is one sided. Then back to the others I think. And always, review**

 **Chapter 2: Check in**

"You snore pretty damn loud Stark. And I think you're getting a little flabby."

Bolting out of his sleep and arm flailing, Tony Stark got off a wild shot with his repulse rays before Natasha had him in a headlock. The night before he'd been hard at work on a new suit, eventually giving in to the exhaustion of being up for three days straight and had fallen asleep right where he sat. He was regretting that now, but assumed it was better than waking up to a curious Romanoff in his bed.

"I'll have you know I work out everyday and have a state of the art gym in Stark Tower" Was all he said. She released him, taking the chair opposite the work bench where he'd nodded off sometime in the wee hours, letting him get a good look.

She looked pretty much the same way she always did. Poised, put together, and classily dressed. Pencil skirt, v-neck blouse and bouncing curls, she looked the sort who might have caught his eye back in the day. She smiled briefly, something that generally made even those close to her shiver and duck for cover. (Except Cap. But then, he supposed, Cap never ducked from anybody. Not to mention he'd had some kind of freaky little bond with the murderous red-head, for whatever reason) Or make sure their Will was in order.

"If you've come to seduce me, I gotta tell you: I'm flattered, but largely uninterested. Mainly because I'm about 75 percent sure you'd bite my head off afterwards." He told her, standing and heading to the fridge he kept stocked in the lab.

"That's a mantis Stark." She reminded him, still watching his every move. He suspected it was instinct. He poured himself a glass of orange juice, offering her the same. She accepted, watching him take a long gulp before sipping at her own.

"It would be better with a straw." She commented.

"You're kidding me. Black Widow uses straws?"

"On occasion. I can also kill a man with one." Natasha replied easily.

"I'm revoking your straw privileges. Now, not that I'm not enjoying the creepy sudden appearance thing but I'm sure I have a lot of repair work to do to my security system if you've managed to slither in from whatever hole you've been weaving webs in. So if this isn't anything important-"

"They're fine. Safe somewhere. That's all you need to know." Natasha interrupted. He took another long pull on his juice, then went back to the fridge and grabbed vodka that had been chilled. "It's too early for plain orange juice. Screw driver?"

"How's Rhodey?" She asked, pushing her glass forward as her answer. He poured out a generous splash of alcohol, stirred it with a coffee stick and returned it to the woman before answering.

"Working on it. I built him some legs, got him back on his feet. Doctors had their heads up their butts so I handled it." He mumbled, eyes on his glass. "And Vision?" She prodded, since he seemed content to be silent.

"Runs self diagnostics everyday, once every three hours to be sure he's 'functioning at full capacity.' Think he misses the girl." He muttered, swallowing down the last of his beverage.

"You mean Wanda."

"I know her name. What about your rage-roid boyfriend, what's new with him?"

Natasha finished her juice as well, leaving it behind her on the counter as she headed for the door.

"What? You creep in here, insult me, drink my liquor and I can't ask a simple question?"

"I'll pass on your love to the Captain."

"Romanoff!"

He would never know what made her stop. She turned back to him, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't- I wanted things better for everyone. Cap knows that."

"For what it's worth.. I'm sure he misses you too Tony." And she left him to his self medicating.

"Falcon wanted me to come and check in, we're just about ready to go Captain. You sure you don't wanna come? Might do you good, getting out some." Scott commented.

Having been placed in a new home by T'Challa, (apparently, being King came with a whole lot of perks) the gang was settling in as well as could be expected. While it would be temporary for Clint, who was still working on getting back to his family, the others didn't really have those ties. Even Scott, who managed to regularly make it to a pay phone three days a week to speak to his daughter.

It was a new, Avenger - less world for them, and they were making due as best they were able. Wanda still wasn't speaking. She occasionally would meet their eyes, or make gestures, but was mostly unresponsive. Steve didn't go out much, for fear of someone recognizing Captain America. He'd been in worse before, he could make do.

This new living situation was fairly decent, after all. Two bedrooms upstairs, three down. Each had a small room to call their own, with an open concept kitchen and living room. Two full bathrooms finished out the home, with a laundry room attached to the place.

The bedrooms had been done with their occupants in mind, right down to the color schemes. Wanda and Steve were on the top floor, with the other three men below them. Ever the gentleman, Steve was careful to create cleaning and bathing schedules, so that Wanda might go about her day in silent peace.

On this particular day, Scott was headed to the market, Sam was going fishing and Clint was going to try and send a message to Laura. Despite being invited along multiple times, Steve refused to leave Wanda by herself. While the others were equally concerned, Clint as bad or nearly so, the Captain was definitely the most this appeared to be one of the girls bad days, in which she very rarely, if ever, would leave her bed.

"No thanks. I think I'll stick around here today. Could you bring me some of those cookies that Marta sells though?"

"Will do."

This settled, the house was soon empty and the pair had it to themselves. As soon as his friends were gone, Steve went to Wanda's door, knocking lightly. She had yet to reply, even once, but he still felt it the most respectful thing to do.

"Wanda? I'm coming in.." He warned. Again, he was met with quiet. He found her pretty much as he was expecting, curled up on her bed and facing towards the window with her back to the door. Shutting the world out as best she could.

"The guys are gone. I thought we could have lunch together." He suggested, kneeling in front of his friend. She didn't respond, only continued to stare blankly. The brief flash of red swirling in her eyes though suggested she'd heard him at least.

"You have to eat something. Barton's worried for you."

Still nothing.

"I can put you in the hammock, out back. It's a good day for it. Maybe I could read some more to you? I still have a lot to catch up on, remember?"

A flicker of recognition. He took that as a good sign and stood, picking her up slowly as he did so. Her head rested against his chest, she didn't move but she didn't fight him on it either.

Carefully, he carried her downstairs and set her down on the couch, going to the kitchen to work on lunch. Something easy.. rummaging around a bit among their slim pickings, he managed to come up with a couple of boxes of macaroni and cheese. Something Wanda seemed to have an affinity for. Figuring they could have that with sandwiches, he put a pot of water on and began to slice into a crusty loaf of fresh bread. It took a second to realize why his instincts were suddenly on alert.

"My my my Captain, I never took you for being so domestic."

"Do spies not have have doorbell training?"

"I think I may have been sick that day."

The afternoon was beginning to look up.


	3. Chapter 3: Even Superhero's need to eat

**Hello little Darcy's. So I promise after this chapter we've got some actual plot comin up but I thought it'd be nice to have a few moments to smile in what is potentially a pretty heavy story to come.**

 **Chapter 3: Even superheroes need to eat**

"You could at least pretend to be scared." Natasha pouted,coming around the counter. Steve shook his head,grinning. "I'll try and remember that for next time. How'd you find us?" It was Natasha's turn to shrug.

"I still have some resources. Is some of that for me?" She asked, peering under his arm.

"If you want. How long can you stay?" She snagged a piece of ham, making a little roll up for herself before answering.

"Undetermined."

While she ate her snack, he used the time to do a brief survey. She was blonde, hair straight and past her shoulders, dressed as an unassuming tourist, complete with jeans, big sunglasses and a tote bag that had one of those inspirational saying water bottles in it.

In short, she looked decent enough, but something in her stance had him worried.

"You're hurt." He realized. She responded with a scathing look and resumed munching.

"I've had worse." Still maintaining a respectful distance, he nodded at the lower corner of her shirt, where a crimson patch was beginning to spread.

"You should re-wrap that."

"Cool story, go make me a sandwich."

Steve remained unimpressed and pushed aside his old world upbringing. Instead of replying, he went to her side and tugged up a corner of her shirt, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief when she didn't immediately put him in a chokehold with her thighs. The wound itself was just above her hip bone, hastily bandaged and roughly three inches in diameter. The surface area was sticky to the touch, blood staining his fingers when he let them ghost over the skin. Natasha made no protests, but the near imperceptible twitch in her jaw spoke volumes.

"Nat.."

"Like I said. I've had worse Steve."

"Do all your missions end like this?"

"Only the fun ones."

He was visibly startled and she was quick to reassure the man, "I'm kidding. I need to clean up. Where's Barton's room?" He pointed down the hall, still mildly confused. "Why do you need Clint's-" Natasha waved off his questions breezily, interrupting him as he tried to continue.

"Who's got the best shower?"

"Um.. probably Wanda and I-"

"Which floor?"  
"The Second. Nat-"

He was speaking to empty air.

By the time she returned, the pasta was served and the sandwiches were made. The blonde was still there, idly he wondered how often she'd colored her hair in the past and if she was naturally a redhead or not.

"Eyes up front soldier."

He could feel his cheeks heating up and avoided her eyes while he served them both. After beverages were poured, he took a seat at the table opposite his friend, ignoring her questioning gaze.

"I can sleep on the couch if you're planning on staying a few nights." He offered. Natasha shook her head, making a pleased noise after taking a bite of her macaroni.

"Don't be ridiculous. If anything, I'll kick Barton out of his bed." She grinned unabashedly when he shook his head in exasperated amusement.

"I wouldn't. He's got a short fuse these days." Romanoff set her sandwich down, turning the tables so to speak and looking over her companion. "Is he the only one?" Steve frowned. "I dunno what you mean." She rolled her eyes and sipped her drink.

"Don't play dumb. You wear your heart on your sleeve cap. Right about now, it's ready to burst. How come you're here instead of gone with everybody else? Wanda's not getting better, is she?"His lips pursed, focus returning to his food.

"You must be tired. You can use my bed to rest up if you want."

"Captain-"

"Stay as long as you like. I'll just bunk with Sam-"

"Steve."

The fork between his fingers snapped in two, neither spoke while he retrieved a new one. Steve took his seat once more, eating quietly while Natasha continued to stare. When he was about fifty percent certain she'd burned holes into his shirt, he offered up information.

"If I can get her to eat lunch, she usually takes a nap after. She doesn't sleep much these days. But she doesn't do much of anything these days. They tortured her Natasha. I don't know what was done exactly. But she won't talk, it's all I can do to make sure she eats enough to stay alive. Clint is good with her, she'll eat and drink for him. He usually has at least one meal and a snack with her… I just don't know what to do anymore Nat. I've tried everything. I can't get her help, I can't help _any_ of them. Scott has a daughter, a little girl. Clint has Laura and his children… what good is any of this, of being there for entire nations when I can't even help my friends be there for the people they care about?!'

He'd broken another fork and Natasha was pulling him into a hug.

"C'mere."

Steve put his head on her shoulder, letting her arms wrap around him and tried to breathe. She didn't speak, didn't offer comfort or well wishes. Instead she held onto him until the warmth from his body began to seep into her always cold one.

"You're very huggy, for a spy."

"And you're pretty sappy for a superhero."

Steve pulled back enough to look at her.

"I didn't mean for this to happen. But I wouldn't change it either. Does that make me a bad person?"

Of all the people to ask. Something twisted a little in her chest at the question. She'd have rather he plunged a knife in between her ribs.

"No. I've known bad people. I've _been_ the bad people. You, Steve Rogers, could never be a bad person. Although your mac and cheese skills could use some work." She teased. He was used to her deflecting and she had grown accustomed to his letting it slide. When he opened his mouth to say something she was surprised, and her relief at their being interrupted was visible.

"Whoa, this why you been staring out the window all gloom and doom Cap? If I'd known I would have told the guy to stay out longer!" Sam hooted from the doorway. Natasha untangled herself from him and offered one of her killer smiles, making the former superhero take a step back out of caution.

"I mean.. Uh, good to see you Nat. Nice hair, is it new?"

She merely continued to smile and Sam worked his way a little further back.

"Uh- listen, I was- come on I was just messing around- Cap she's freakin me out make her stop!"

She did not stop and sadly, Sam had worse than being freaked out to deal with.


	4. Chapter 4: Duty calls

**Chapter 4: Duty calls**

Several countries away while Falcon was attempting to avoid bodily harm, Tony Stark was trying to keep his head from exploding.

Board meetings had always been more Pepper's thing, and Cap had always been the unspoken leader of The Avengers. With his team torn in two and Pepper still (mostly) not speaking to him, he had to keep what was left of his people together and on the straight and narrow.

Something that was about ten million times easier when the world was behaving itself.

Holed up in his lab for the day, Tony decided to use the 'Genius at work' card for some peace and quiet. He'd been tinkering with the same piece for a good hour and had made little to no progress. So when Vision knocked, he welcomed the distraction.

"Vision, my main man. What can I do you for?" He asked, tossing aside his tools. The sentient lifeform drifted in, looking about him at the complete lack of progress on various projects that had been coming along well enough in days past.

"I wished to speak with you. I do hope I'm not intruding?" He asked.

Tony shrugged, going to the fridge.

"I mean... I was on the verge of curing cancer but I can spare a few minutes. Drink?"

Vision recoiled as though he'd been hit square in the chest. "Curing such an ailment is far superior to anything I might have needed to say-" He began and Tony snickered.

"Guessing you haven't got to human senses of humor yet in your studies? Looks like we're gonna need a movie night! Didn't answer me either, want something to drink?" He prodded, in his usual rapid fire questioning.

"No, thank you- Mr. Stark, you've asked me not to allow you to imbibe in spirits-"

"It's two fingers Vision, not beer pong."

The synthezoid floated over, deftly plucking the glass Tony had been pouring from between his fingers and pouring it back into the bottle.

"Perhaps a nice glass of fruit juice instead. I have been reliably informed by James Rhodes that this is an acceptable beverage to enjoy in the morning." He explained, offering the new option. Tony glared, but accepted it nonetheless.

"Think I liked you better when you were a computer."

"If we are being technical, I still operate with the capacity and speed of a technological-"

"We're not! We're not being technical."He groaned and cracked his back, wishing the throbbing in his temples would ease back. "As you wish Mr. Stark." The answer was given without hesitation, and all the agreeability in the world, but Tony was becoming familiar with his team mate's quirks and thought he caught a bit of tension in the android's bearing.

"Speaking of wishes, how you doin pal? Anything you wish or want for? Perks of having a billionaire best friend." He threw out, tossing yet another balled up paper into the trash. Vision looked genuinely mystified.

"You would consider us friends?"

"You wouldn't?"

"I.. it was my belief, after earlier incidents and the accident of James Rhodes-"

"Wasn't your fault." He was quick to deny it, had to. Cap would have had the words, could have given some consoling speech that would send Vision off with a puffed out chest and walking on sunshine. As it was, he did the best he could.

"We all made mistakes that day. It happens, it's what makes us human. What makes us great is learning from them, so that those mistakes aren't repeated." Vision looked thoughtful and Tony was actually pretty proud of himself. Flying by the seat of his pants and it still sounded pretty damn good.

"Sir?"

"Yeah bud?"

Vision paused, shifting in a little dance that was quickly becoming his norm for when he was uncertain.

"Do you.. Do you believe Miss Maximoff is well, wherever she may be?"

Tony paused, took a long sip of his Vision approved fruit juice. The android hadn't spoken of the girl since the day Rhodey had been brought in.

"I think-"

"Tony!"

James limped in, still getting used to the leg braces that fired along with neuron pathways in his brain. Specially designed by Stark industries, they moved with his body to keep him from feeling too stiff and were easily removed with the touch of a button. Besides that, they also had LED panels that could change colors to coordinate with his clothing. Today, they were silver to match the trousers he wore.

"What's-"

"Turn on the TV!" Rhodes demanded. Such was His urgency that Tony flicked it on without protest or snide remarks. An emergency news bulletin was on several of the channels, covering a live story. The normally perky elven nosed blonde who always had a witty remark for the day's top stories now was grimly reporting updates.

"Incoming reports suggest 6 casualties thus far, 32 more are injured or in critical condition. The attack occurred less than an hour ago,on 6th and Wirsteshite at the newfound bank. Witnesses say a man spoke briefly with one of the guards on duty and then asked to see a security deposit box. Moments after he was taken back there was an explosion. It is not yet confirmed if this was prearranged or the work of a suicide bomber. However, this is incredibly similar to eight other attacks occurring within the past three weeks. Current working theory is that the string of attacks are related, more on this story as it comes in. We go now to -"

"Did you see that? Attack _nine_ Tony. We gotta do something." Rhodey insisted. The man's jaw worked briefly, his eyes straying back to his work bench.

"You know the rules Rhodey."

James gaped at him.

"Man _SCREW_ the rules, we gotta find this guy! He started small with no name banks but he's headed for the big leagues and there's hardly any cool off time. The cops aren't doing anything, more people are going to die-"

"We don't move until we get the go-ahead. That's how it works now."

Rhodey swept papers aside, slapping the hard surface of a lab table. Vision jumped, while Tony stared into his juice.

"And when will that come? Huh? When he takes out Wall street? All those rich assholes in their tweedsuits-"

"Careful." Tony warned.

"When he decides that this isn't getting enough coverage and starts aiming for something more newsworthy? What about a public library, or an elementary school, I hear those get big ratings for fluff pieces!"

Before the two men could come to blows, Vision stepped in.

"There's a phone call for you Sir."

Glaring, he nodded, finally hearing his new system trying to alert him to the call and pressed the button on one of his many high tech remotes. The screen which formerly had been full of news reports and weather forecasts was now filled by the glowering face of the secretary of state.

"Stark. I was expecting to be put on call waiting again." He remarked snidely. Tony sipped his beverage. "I'm a busy man Sir, got my finger in lots of pots. What can I do for you?" Ross looked as though he'd like to make a sharp retort, but evidently thought better of it and instead folded his hands.

"Your Country needs you son. More specifically, it needs the Avengers."


	5. Chapter 5: Ring Ring

**Chapter 5: Ring Ring**

"Hey Cap,we're gonna shrink Scott and make him have a leg race with a ladybug, Barton's taking bets. You want in?" Natasha poked her head into Steve's room, it becoming quickly apparent he wasn't around. The sound of the shower running let her know he was occupied for the time being.

Taking advantage of the quiet,she took a moment to be certain he wasn't going to be done in the next 20 seconds, then let herself inside.

Old habits often died hard after all.

Unlike the other's rooms, there were no real personal touches here. The bed was neatly made, with hospital corners so tight you could bounce a penny off the surface. She went to the dresser, and found everything folded precisely, and color coded. In the closet was a duffle bag,packed and ready to go at a moment's notice. The room itself was simple, with bed, bureau and large closet, a round braided rug underfoot. The walls were a deep blue, with touches of white. Dust bunnies had taken one look and decided to vacation elsewhere. Nothing fancy, everything in the room had a place and purpose. It was simple and clean cut, exactly like the Captain.

She'd made certain of it.

On the nightstand was a handheld notebook, she flipped through it to see where he was in his ever growing list of things to catch up on. It made her smile to see things like 'Pacman' or 'The Lion King' had made the cut.

She searched through the rest of the room, the only thing of interest being a journal, tucked beneath one corner of the mattress. Far more interesting.

She did a cursory scan, some of it was notes on the team, some entries predated the rift between he and Tony, others while on the run and some still from around the time they'd settled down in this house. One page in particular caught her eye. It read simply:

" _June 19th, 2016._

 _We never did get that dance."_

Natasha was not prone to emotion, she could feel for sure and sometimes more deeply than anyone would have suspected. But the sudden lump in her throat was a surprise. June 19th. Peggy Carter had died that day. Even in a place solely for his eyes alone, Steve had been unable to express his sorrow.

She wished she could have put to words how her own heart ached for him. The words themselves wouldn't come. She'd been there that day, in the back of the church to watch over him. A dark and fallen angel,ever vigilant. And she'd held him,eyes scanning for any threats, ready to protect the man so that he might have time to mourn.

Maybe she didn't have to say anything.

The sound of the shower turning off alerted her to her browsing time being cut short. By the time he stepped into the room, her feet were propped up and she was back to scribbling in his notepad.

"Never would have taken you for a little black book sort of guy Rogers." She teased, thumbing through the pages.

"Natasha! Um.. I'm not - I wasn't expecting anyone to be in my room-" Steve blushed, fumbling to tighten the towel at his waist.

Enjoying his discomfort, she gave him a lazy once over and licked her lips. Damn but if that serum hadn't done it's job. She took another second to ogle his six pack.

"My eyes are up here Romanoff."

Snorting, she sat up, tossing the book aside and met his smirk with one of her own.

"Sorry Steve, I'm trained to take in my surroundings and commit the details to memory."

"I've never known you to take this long."

Flirting with Steve was always a pleasure, because she was never sure which version of him she would get. At times, he'd be red and stammering so that she could hardly understand him. And then there were moments like these, when he gave as good as he got. She was fairly certain he was a closet ladies man. She wasn't sure which Steve she preferred.

"There's a lot of ground to be covered, I need to be accurate." She informed him gravely, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "I'm afraid you'll only receive the fifty cent tour today, I need to get dressed." Was his smug reply. There it was, she had him.

Rising from the bed, she took her time walking over and hooking her finger in the corner of the towel keeping them apart. He inhaled sharply and she smiled.

"What do I get for a dollar?"

"A snack from the gift shop?" He offered weakly. She grinned and headed for the door.

"Did you need something Tasha?" He called out. She shrugged.

"We're doing bug racing downstairs. You're welcome to join us."

Steve groaned.

"I told them to stop putting Scott up to that, then he crashes and misses dinner."

She shook her head.

"Boy will be boys dear. Let the children play."

He snickered, tensing when a phone began to ring from somewhere in the room. Internally she jumped, she'd been through the entire area and hadn't found so much as a stamp, let alone a cellphone.

It stopped just as quickly as it had begun, and the pair shared a look. Slowly, she raised an eyebrow.

"Steve. Did I hear a phone ringing?"

She watched the struggle in his eyes, the indecision in his gaze while he decided whether or not to trust her with whatever secret he'd been keeping.

It rang again, a fun little chime from one of those cheap flip phones. Three rings, just like the first time and then it stopped. They continued their silent staring match, when it started up again.

He didn't answer her question, instead he went to the back of his closet and pulled up part of the floorboard, taking out the device and bringing it to his ear.

"What is it?"

No answers there. But he'd chosen to grab the phone in her presence, which she took to mean she had permission to stay. She closed the door again and sat back on the bed. She watched him fold his arms across his chest, still listening to whoever was on the other end. Body language had his shoulders tense, foot tapping and body hunched in, voice low.

She knew it wasn't Sharon. The agent had assisted him during his time looking for Bucky Barnes, they'd had dinner once and one kiss between them. It hadn't gone anywhere after that and there was hardly anything about her in his journal. All of which were facts Natasha did _not_ care about and knew purely for security reasons

T'Challa wouldn't have contacted him on a flip phone. Bucky was nowhere to be found, but even then he and his oldest friend probably would have had some code between them.

"I need to speak with the others. There's going to be difficulties. I'll be in touch."

He hung up, brows furrowed and stared down at the phone as though he'd like to break it.

"Steve?" She prodded.

"They need us."

"They..?"

"The world. They need the Avengers."

 **That night, after beetle racing and the others were tucked away into bed, she came to him once more.** He wasn't sleeping, she'd heard him moving around to check in on Wanda before he'd gone back to his own room. She crept in and perched on the edge of the mattress before he was even aware she'd come in the room.

"When will you tell them?"

He jumped, but couldn't say he was surprised.

"I don't know. I don't know.. I can't ask them to do this, how can I ask them Tasha?"

Her lips pursed briefly.

"S'like Sam always says. They're adults, they know what they're saying yes or no to."

He shook his head, staring up at the ceiling and hands behind his head.

"Wanda isn't- I can't leave her alone. Clint would sooner shoot me then go anywhere near Stark. His heart was in the right place but the way he handled it wasn't something I can agree with, not then and not now. Except there's this maniac, this danger to so many people. And this is what we did, we saved the world. This is what we _do_."

He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face wearily. Not asking for permission, she leaned down and began to rub his temples.

"Wha-"

"You've got that pinched look, like you're getting a tension headache again."

He considered asking how she knew about that, just as quickly dismissing the idea. She may have been in exile, but she was still Black Widow.

"I'm still not giving you that dollar tour." He murmured, eyes closed and gradually relaxing. He thought he could hear a smile in her voice when she answered him.

"How about 75 cents? A friendly discount."

"I'll put you on the waitlist."

She was definitely smiling now.

"Oh, there's a whole _waitlist_ now?"

"Mmhm." He sighed under her hands, doing his best not to react when she crawled in beside him, making herself comfortable.

"I've never been good at waiting in line."

The old Steve was struggling not to voice an offer to sleep on the floor. The current Steve was struggling not to spoon his new partner.

"I'll see if I can get you in with the VIP'S."

She grinned against his side.

"Go to sleep Rogers."


	6. Chapter 6: Taking sides

**Little darcy's, THIS CHAPTER IS SO LONG I'M SO PROUD! Thank NANOWRIMO, while I'm trying to bang out 50,000 words. If you wouldn't mind, pretty please sending me some good thoughts while I work on yet ANOTHER draft of this novel of mine**

 **Chapter 6: Taking sides**

She was gone by the time he woke up.

Steve couldn't say that he was surprised, but he did have to privately admit being a little disappointed Natasha wasn't still there. He'd slept like a baby, with her warmth pressed into his front and at one point her hand in his hair.

He hadn't wanted to be held for some time now, but when he did, it always seemed to include the Russian spy. He chose not to spend too much time considering the reasons behind that and tried instead to focus on the day ahead.

Stretching, he sat up and swallowed a shout of surprise at the brunette hugging herself in his doorway.

"Wanda?" He asked, scooting forward.

"I told them nothing." Was her reply. He began to rise, freezing when she scrambled back.

"Wanda, what-"

"I told them nothing." She said again. He nodded slowly, trying to get to her side without alarming the girl.

"I know. And it's alright, you're safe now. They won't ask anymore questions and no one is going to hurt you." Red swirling in her eyes, he watched a lone tear slither down her cheek.

"Captain?" She whispered. He moved to her side, gathering her up in his arms. "It's alright. I'm here, you're safe." She stopped speaking at that point, just pressed closer wrapping her hands in his shirt. Familiar by now with her early morning episodes, he brought her to the bed and moved back until he was leaning against the headboard with her on his chest.

"It's alright." He said again, stroking her hair. "You're safe now, it's alright." He didn't know if she believed him but the worst part was that he couldn't ask. In a state like this, Wanda might not speak for another few days.

"Hey, you want to know something? Nat was in my room, can you believe that? It's crazy huh? She came in and she was here, in my bed like you are. You wouldn't think a spy would want to be quite that close to someone.. You and she are a lot alike in some ways. What do you think?" As suspected, there was no answer. But he thought he felt her nod, ever so slightly. He continued;

"I value your opinion Wanda, a great deal. You and the others, you're my team. More than that actually. What you did for me.. I won't ever forget that. I only wish it hadn't come at this cost.. none of this was your fault. I should have been there, and I wasn't. I'm sorry."

He didn't know if she could hear him, not now in this state. But when she hid her face in his neck, he kissed her head and pretended he couldn't feel the hot tears soaking into the collar of his shirt. Instead, he tried to figure out just how exactly he would go about telling the others what they'd been asked to do.

" **No."**

"Clint-"

"You're right. HELL no."

Natasha sighed. She'd known this wouldn't be easy. She sipped her tea, watching the man pace in front of her.

"Look. It's a job. I know you're bored here -"

He spun around, glaring so fiercely she almost dropped her mug.

"You're right, I _am_ bored here. You wanna know what i'd like to be doing to keep busy? Playing with my kids. Kissing Laura, chopping wood out back or putting together pieces for the new fence. Watch my baby grow. I was _retired_. I came out of retirement, to help YOU!" He pointed an accusing finger at Steve, who's arms were already folded tight.

"I know, and-"

"I should never have taken that job. 'One last job' that's what I told my wife. I PROMISED. I'm gonna miss birthdays, I'll miss christmas-"

"I'm sorry. You're right, you shouldn't have to miss-" Steve began but Clint cut him off again.

"I should have taken Wanda and left. I should never have come to your side. This isn't my fight, this isn't my life. I should have never-"

"No, you shouldn't have." Natasha cut in. The others looked up, though they knew better than to voice their shock. Natasha sipped her tea again, fully aware of how her old friend was fuming right now.

"Excuse me?" Clint's voice was dangerously low and even Scott didn't dare crack a joke.

"You shouldn't have come. You should have stayed with Laura and the kids. You know that and I know that. But you _did_ come and you _are_ here. Don't take your anger out on the Captain when it's yourself you're mad at." She replied quietly. You could have heard a pin drop.

"So it's like that now?"

"Nat you don't have to-"

She sipped again.

"Like what, exactly?"

"He's asking us to meet with Stark-" He began.

"I'm aware." Was her cool reply.

"That man destroyed our lives, he took me from my home, Scott from his daughter, Wanda-'

She snorted, the sound only further infuriating him and making the others supremely uncomfortable. This had begun as a "team meeting" but had quickly dissolved into shock and dismay when Steve informed them of his being contacted. Apparently there was a call for action, some sort of maniac was using mind control and causing chaos. Wanda was still on the couch, unresponsive but whimpering every time Clint began to yell, while Scott and Sam had arguments of their own.

"Romanoff-" Sam started but she quickly shut him down with a death stare.

"Stark didn't do that. Stryker and his team did. The raft did that. Tony is an egomaniac and a huge pain in the ass, but even he wouldn't be crazy enough to try and put you all away. Clint, this is on you. It was YOUR choice to come, why? Because it was what's right. Because you wanted your family-"

"Don't you talk about them. You don't GET to talk about them anymore Romanoff." He answered through gritted teeth. Steve caught a glimmer of hurt in her eyes before it vanished so quickly he wondered if he'd imagined it.

"You decided to fight on Steve's side, nobody made you do that."

"And if I remember correctly, you fought with Stark. Or did you forget that?" He growled. Steve stepped forward,

"Enough. Look, I'm not making you come along, I'm not even asking you to understand. I'm giving you the choice, that's all. Nat didn't have anything to do with-"

"NAT?"

They shared a look, while Clint looked between the pair and then let off a bark of laughter.

"Steve and Nat? Since when are you two on a first name basis?" The look on the spy's face grew downright murderous, a scary smile on her lips and Steve's eyes narrowing.

"What are you implying Barton?"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm asking, when did you two start sleeping together?"

For the second time in as many minutes, the room fell silent, save for Sam's whispered "Well damn, brother has a deathwish." Natasha ignored the others, walking around the island to her old friend and meeting him toe to toe.

"Come again?" She asked.

"When did you start banging the Captain here Nat? Before or after you decided Stark should run our lives?" Her lips pursed briefly, on anyone else Steve might have called it heartbreak and he would have stepped in, had he not been certain she'd maim him for it.

"Outside Barton. You too Cap."

"Fine by me." Hawkeye headed out, Steve slowly trailing behind.

"And boys?" She turned to the other two coherent members of the team.

"I am fully capable of piercing your eardrums irreparably, with my pinky. So I suggest you don't let me catch you listening at the door." She smiled, and followed the two men outside.

Sam and Scott glanced at one another, then back to the window.

"She's gonna kill us all in our sleep one day,isn't she?" Scott asked. "Probably. Might as well live a little now. " Sam shrugged and both headed to the front of the house to peek out at the action.

" **Now. Care to repeat yourself?" Natasha asked.** Clint resumed pacing, shaking his head. "Its real simple. Are the two of you-" "So what if we are?" the spy coldly broke in. Both men gaped at her.

"So- wait. You and Cap-" Clint had spoken out of anger, but began to study the two of them once more. Meanwhile Steve was sputtering like a fish on dry land.

"We haven't- that is- we don't -"

"It's none of your business Barton. Who I take to my bed is my concern and mine alone. We might be friends, but if you ever again imply that who's between my legs has any factor in my behavior with this team, I'll show you why there's so much red in my ledger. Understand?"

Steve was still gesturing wildly and attempting to find words while Clint only stared.

"That was a low blow and you know it. I'm not talking about murdering your dog, and we aren't talking about Stark like he's a melodramatic villain. There's a threat, what are we going to do about it?"

Steve sighed, finally collecting himself enough to answer before their argument could go further.

"That's the question I kept asking myself. I know how you feel about Tony, Clint. I get that. I also know that the reason you saved Wanda, the reason you fought by my side is because you're a hero. You're the sort of man his kids can believe in, because you always do what's right. You fight for others. I'd like for you to be by my side again. But I'll understand if you're done. This isn't your fight, you retired like you said. And you can stay here, and watch over Wanda if you want. I have no right to ask more of any of you after what you've gone through. But it would be my privilege if you would fight with me again." Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he nodded at them both and headed off for a walk to clear his head.

"Shouldn't you go after him?" Clint mumbled, trying to ignore the guilt tumbling around in his stomach. Natasha shook her head.

"He needs some space right now. We could all use that I think." He swallowed.

"I was out of line." He admitted.

She hummed in agreement, eyes on the spot of sunlight hitting Steve's blond hair as he headed towards the forest the house was tucked away into.

"I'm sorry." He added. She glanced his way, folded her arms.

"For…" She was going to make him pay for his little comments and they both knew it.

"For embarrassing you. That was private. And I shouldn't have gone there. That's like someone talking about Laura. And it wasn't fair to either of you Nat. I'm sorry."

"Yeah well…" She'd lost Steve in the trees- nope there he was.

"For the record, we aren't." He tilted his head.

"What?"

"Steve and I. We're not together in anyway. We're just friends."

Clint looked dubious, but figured he'd lost today's heart to heart privileges and just nodded.

"I'll make sure the guys know I got it wrong. But.. I don't like this Nat. And I can't promise I'm going to go along with the plan. Not when we'd have to work with Stark." She nodded her understanding and headed for the woods, while Clint went back in and nearly gave Scott a black eye.

"Don't let Romanoff catch you at that." He warned as the man straightened up from trying to listen through the keyhole. "And next time just crack a window."

 **While the others were making fun of Scott (yet again) Natasha was picking her way through a wooded area.** Within a few hundred feet, she'd found her target.

Instead of talking, she took a seat on a log and watched him splinter chunk after chunk of wood with his bare hands. When a branch came down on his arm, he cursed and finally stopped, trying to catch his breath and attempting to pull out of reach when she rose and came to look him over.

"I'm fi-"

"You're a bad liar is what you are. Hang on, this'll probably hurt." Before he could ask what she meant, she'd grabbed his hand,shoved him back against a tree and promptly pushed his shoulder back into place. He yelped but felt arguably better thereafter.

"Better?" She asked.

"I can't believe you just did that."

She shrugged,bringing him to the river running through and began to wash the splinters out of his hands.

"You couldn't believe I told Clint we're having sex but I did."

His cheeks reddened and he glared.

"You shouldn't have done that. It'll change the team dynamic and it isn't true anyway." Her laughter was more bitter than expected.

"Oh is that your concern? The team dynamic will change? Because I've got news for you Steve, it already has. It did the minute you and Stark had differing opinions on the accords. But what you need to realize is that we can't go back to how things were before. The team IS different now. We're not even really a team, we're these two separate groups and things are always changing. You have to realize, Tony has his team and you've got yours. And how you lead them is going to have to change right alongside things, or else it's never going to work again."

He was quiet for a minute, watching her clean him up.

"Why'd you tell Barton you and I were… you know." The blush had returned to his cheeks and she smiled slightly.

"Because of that. God you're an easy mark Rogers, I'm surprised he didn't see through it right away. Guess he was too pissed." She finished up, using a leaf to dry away most of the water.

"I'm Not your type anyway." He shrugged, freezing when she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? And what's my type Captain? Hmm?"

And just like that, he was shy and hesitant once again.

"I don't know, it's not my place to speculate. I shouldn't have- I'm sorry, that was impolite."

"Captain America, impolite? What IS the world coming to?" She grinned, a quick smirk that had him squirming.

"I didn't mean to offend you. And I wouldn't- you've worked hard to build a reputation with the team. If we did ever- I wouldn't go around bragging. It's not how a gentleman behaves." He finished awkwardly. Her smile softened.

"That's not how _you_ behave Steve."

"Yeah well.. that's something intimate. Like telling a confidence or sharing a bed- or.. that is-' She silenced him with a kiss, one that perhaps he ought to have seen coming but had not and so his response was more instinct than anything else.

He kissed her back, his mouth moving against hers and his large hands burying themselves in her hair almost before he'd noticed. Just as quickly as it had begun, she was out of his lap and walking away, not a hair out of place and whistling calmly.

"You-you.. we- Nat!"

"Intimate enough for you Rogers?"

"Romanoff- Nat get back here!"

"Sorry,you're breaking up, what?"

"We're not even wearing comms!"

He quickly hurried to catch up, touching his lips as he went and having the startling realization that she'd put the smile back on his face. He wasn't sure what the meant and was even more startled to find he didn't care to question it, not now. He was really going to have to get used to her surprise kiss attacks.

 _Of course that implies it'll happen again.._

Pushing that aside, he chose not to focus on the how and why's of it. Instead, he made his way back to the house, and back to his team.


	7. Chapter 7: Speak

**Chapter 7: Speak**

"We'll meet in a neutral place, somewhere public enough we can't easily be snuck up on with plenty of exits. Natasha already checked out the sight, we can get the upper hand as soon as we need to." Steve explained that night at the table.

His team listened intently, Sam on his left and Wanda on his right. Opposite him, Natasha nodded along with his explanation while Clint cleaned his bow for the umpteenth time and Scott doodled a picture of their safe house for Cassie.

"I don't like it. Stark is too proud to call like this, out of the blue-" Sam murmured. Scott huffed in agreement, considering two shades of blue.

"Have you thought this might be a trap? Could be the higher ups are using their little lap dog to nab us." Clint argued.

"As a former inept criminal… that's a good point." Scott added, finally looking up from his drawing.

"Natasha has looked into the story, everything checks out. Right?" Steve prodded. She nodded.

"So maybe Stark isn't directly in the know but that doesn't mean it _isn't_ a trap."Clint reminded them, wiping down the bowstring.

"I know. Which is why I'm going alone." Steve continued. He expected team outcry, and they did not disappoint.

"Hey man, we're a team and I'm not letting you walk in-"

"Do we think that's safe? I mean I know I'm not cool Avenger badass like you guys but-"

"No, NO WAY that's the stupidest thing-"

He held up a hand, trying to quell their rising anxiety.

"I've already decided. This is a preliminary meeting and we need to see exactly what the other side's intentions are. Once we know that, we'll have another meeting. If it _is_ a trap, then they've only got the one of us." Steve explained firmly. Sam frowned, hand running over his mouth in obvious frustration.

"You want us to just sit here on our asses and wait for them to let you out of there? No back up, no nothin?" He muttered, his dark look in Steve's direction interrupted by Wanda's voice suddenly clear as day and being added to the mix.

"Let Natasha go."

Steve was relieved to find he wasn't the only one whose head whipped around. She had her knees under her chin, holding her pieces together and eyes more alert than they had been in days.

"Hey kiddo, how you feeling? You want something to eat? One of you guys, Scott get her something to eat-" Clint was all soft voices, gentle movements and his hands were on hers, rubbing warmth back into the small limbs. But she would not be coddled, her hands were tugged away and left gripping the edges of her sweatshirt.

"Let Natasha go." She repeated. "She is aware of the layout, she knows both sides the best. If you will take none of us to fight alongside you, then take her. Please Captain." Her eyes met his, voice hoarse from disuse but gaze steady. The others around the table looked to their leader, no one daring to break the silence, not yet.

His eyes flickered over to Romanoff, who raised a brow but waited alongside the others. It was his choice, and she would respect the decision, whichever he made. After a moment, he returned his attention back to Wanda.

"I would never ask this of any of you if I didn't' think this was important. You deserve the time to heal Wanda." He murmured. She smiled wanly in return.

"You have given me more than enough time Captain." He shook his head, even while her companions tried to jump in but her voice was louder than all of their clamoring for how soft it was.

"I do not wish to lie in oblivion for the rest of my life. It will take more time than what I have had.. But at least grant me this request, while I still have the courage to ask it of you. If you will not take the others, and I am not strong enough yet to stand by your side, then bring Natasha. Please." Her hands were trembling from effort and Scott was already whipping up something or another to fill her belly. But she would not look away until he nodded, let her body sag back into the chair when he looked to the others.

"Alright. Natasha?" The former spy shrugged at him.

"Just tell me what time we're leaving."

They rose with the dawn the next morning and little was said as they traveled to the prearranged meeting place. Mostly, each party was lost in their own thoughts. It was only as the meeting hour drew nearer that conversation began to flow.

"I've got my vantage point set. You remember our signal?" She asked, pushing up his sleeve and checking the wire along his wrist. He nodded, submitting himself to her poking and prodding.

"Tip my water glass at the first sign of trouble." He tilted his head, letting her tug his t-shirt down briefly to see that the wire was firmly attached, sighing when she took him by the shoulder to turn his body. "Romanoff we've gone over this four times already. Stark and I are going to talk and then you and I meet up to compare notes." He peered down at the small woman, surprised to find something like concern staring back up at him.

"And now we're going over it five times. I've already made at least two agents so make sure you know your way in and out. If our first meeting site is compromised-" Her hands were quick, efficient. And just as quickly brushed away by his own.

"Go to the second. I know Natasha." He stilled her hands, ducking his head down to hers when a pedestrian passed a little too close. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close and whispering little more than a breath away.

"Stick to the plan. We'll be fine." He muttered, cheeks reddening. She smirked.

"Was this part of your plan, getting me a little closer to that dollar tour?" She asked. When he shifted and pulled back, she smiled outright.

"Game face Captain."

With that final encouragement, she slipped away into the crowd and he set his shoulders. It was time.


	8. Chapter 8: The meet up

**So this fic is getting started back up now that I finally have time to do so. I wanted to complete a few other fics since they were so close to being done and now I've got some new things to put out! Question for those reading: There's gonna be some romanogers going down. Question is, shall it happen in a few chapters or are we wanting a slow burn? I've got plans for either but I'd like to hear thoughts in the comments and reviews. Also posting two chapters today since it's been so freaking long and you all have been super patient :)**

 **CHAPTER 8: The meet up**

Tony was waiting patiently at his table, fingers drumming along on its surface and debating whether or not to throw back his second scotch. Getting even slightly drunk would only give his former friend satisfaction and quite frankly he was in no mood to hear the golden boy's lectures.

He checked his watch again for the fifth time in as many minutes and it was some second between looking down at it's cold face and looking back up that Steve Rogers was suddenly in his line of vision.

The man looked well enough, still bulked up and hair darker, he must have done something to it to blend in a little more. There was a five o'clock shadow along his jaw, something that twisted the invisible knife just a little bit further in Tony's gut. Even his look was backwards, this entire THING was backwards and there it was again. That nagging doubt, that raging self loathing that would not be ignored.

Before he could sink too deeply into his self hate, Steve was slipping into the chair in front of him, as casual as anything. One hand rested on the table, it waved briefly and a waitress appeared with a second water glass and menu. It seemed even his farm boy innocence had hardened into something a little more jagged since they last met.

"Stark."

"Cap. You look like hell, do they not have razors on the run?"

Steve stared hard at him.

"They do, actually. Trying something new out though, it's the fugitive look. I hear it's all the rage now ." He replied evenly. Tony shifted, focused on the ice swimming in his glass.

"And how's the orphan maker, he doing good? Take anymore jobs? I hear they need him over in-"

"We're not going to discuss Buck. Now what do you want Tony?" Again the even tone. The hard set jaw. And the dim eyes.

He looked as worn down as Tony it. He chugged the whole damn thing in one go and was thankful that their waitress was as sharp eyed as she was cute. He had another glass almost as quickly as he put the previous one down.

"There's a job. They need us, all of us. I mentioned I would see what I can do." He started on the next glass and it wasn't quite the burn he needed, god his head was killing him-

"What kind of job?"

What kind of job indeed. He wanted to shoot off at the mouth. He wanted to scream. He wanted a lot of things.

"There's somebody gunning down big targets and it's a different somebody everytime. So far there's been multiple attacks with the same M.O. . All of them suicide bombers and the targets getting bigger and better every time. The body count is climbing, they think maybe it's a terrorist or maybe it's something new. They're calling them inhumans. People with powers, like Thor and Hulk but they've got very different motives, you understand?" He was warming to his topic now, the drink in hand forgotten.

"We figured out there's a small trail but it always seems to lead to a dead end. Our hope is that with the next strike we can nail down something that will put this creep away for a very long time." He could still see the pictures from the file, the bodies floating up and in front of his eyes-

"Why call us? Sounds like something your guys can handle." Your guys. Wasn't that the kicker?

"Not exactly. We're missing a lot of key components. Vision is still learning, he doesn't exactly blend if you get my meaning. Rhodey-" He stopped. The glass was picked up and then set down again. It wouldn't help the churning in his gut and would only make his headache worse.

Something in Steve's shoulders softened. He shifted in his chair, studying the man before him.

"How is James? After- a contact of mine has kept me up to date. I understand he was injured during-" He couldn't say it either. Neither of them looked at the other, both sipped from glasses just for something to do with their hands.

"You know me. Can't leave it alone, gotta tinker. That's what Pepp calls it. Tinkering."

"You two then-" Steve didn't continue, letting Tony fill the silence and it was enough, to have this moment between the two former friends.

"We're trying. It's not perfect. But things never are, right?" He could look at Steve then, really look at him and his lips lifted ever so slightly.

"You don't happen to know what that's like though, do you? You and uh- what's her name?" He asked. Steve's cheeks reddened ever so slightly and Tony wasn't given the room to pounce on that reaction.

"Sharon and I aren't- it's a bit difficult to form lasting ties when you're running enough to need velcro." Tony smirked into his drink.

"Look at you up to date on shoes. Guess a lot _has_ changed." Steve sighed and sipped from his water.

"Yeah. I have some time on my hands these days. So there's a bit of catching up to do and I do it." The men were quiet for a moment before Steve shifted, settling in his seat a little more firmly.

"Alright. Suppose I were to give help with this situation.. What's expected? Who calls the shots?" He asked. Tony glanced out into the crowds swirling around them. The hustle and bustle of aproned waitresses moving about them, setting down plates and cheerfully greeting patrons. Not for the first time, he wondered if Steve still had enough trust in him to come alone, or if there was someone waiting in the wings, just in case.

"You'll be dealing with me directly." He promised. At Steve's dubious look he sighed.

"Just me. I'm the go between. Not everyone is on the same page about you making a come back, maybe for good reason-"

"Good reason, is that what you call it? What they did to Wanda, that was for good reason?" Oh. There was the hard line. That firm set to the jaw. He wasn't angry, or maybe he was. But he was definitely disappointed and somehow that was worse.

"I did everything I could to put a stop to that-" Tony began but Steve shook his head, hard enough he nearly knocked the table over.

"You're telling me that with all your money and sway and swagger, you couldn't get your good buddies to let up on Wanda? To take the collar off at least? God Tony they had her chained up like a dog in training, you're telling me you couldn't stop that?!" He was angry, and Tony knew he had every right to be. But Tony wasn't any happier.

"All you had to do was come in. You could have stopped it, you just had to come in, we could have done this together-"

"That option went right out the door when you decided to turn on Buck. There's supposed to be an order to things here, that's what I fought for, that's what the Avengers stood for. A system where we catch the bad guys and we help the good guys. Somewhere, you lost sight of that." It was getting bitter, this wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"Yeah, you're right. I lost sight of the tights and bodysuits when I saw the pictures of those dead little kids. When I had to deal with the death toll, you think Wanda was the only one who had that on her chest?! Come on Rogers, get it through your head. We were playing god! And with the exception of our buddy Thor, we're NOT. Not even the invincible Captain America." Steve rose abruptly and he was scrambling on the inside, seething on the outside and burning somewhere in between.

" I need your help. Okay? I need it, just this once. You can give me that much at least."

But Rogers was shaking his head, already turning away.

"We're done here Stark."

"I can't add to my death count Steve." He hadn't meant to say that, aw hell he hadn't meant to say that. But it was out, in the open and the words were a tether that slowly pulled the Captain back in. The older man sat, heavily and shifted. Waiting. Watching.

"I can't- I'm not putting anymore down on the body count, not if I can help it. I've got a list. You think I'm talking out of my ass, holier than thou?" He fished the picture out of his pocket. He'd put faces to the names and there they were, neatly lined up. Tidy and in the box, that was what these lives had been chalked up to. Pictures in a broken man's pockets.

"All of these people.. I've tried reaching out. Give scholarships or funds or food or _something_. But the list, it's growing. Everyday, it's growing and I can't stop it by myself. Help me. Just one more time. Let's be the Avengers, one more time." He reached for his glass, and then pushed it away. Pepper hated when he drank anyway.

Steve's eyes slid from the picture to him, and then back down to the paper. Finally, he rose and jammed his hands in his pockets.

"We'll meet again tomorrow. I'll get in contact with the place and time." It was all he could manage and Tony was grateful there would be no more talk. The paper was put back in his pocket, right in his breast pocket close to his chest piece where it would weigh just as solemnly.

He watched his former friend disappear into the crowd, and it was enough.


	9. Chapter 9: I dare you to let me be

**I've changed the rating to M, just in case. ;) Also, most of you agreed you wanted to see ROMANOGERS in the next**

 **few chapters so keep an eye out because it's coming mwuaaahh haaa haaa haaaaaa**

 **Chapter 9: I dare you to let me be**

He knew Natasha had been listening in but he also knew she wouldn't say anything until they were safely away.

He'd never been so thankful for the quiet.

Seeing Tony.. the swagger and bravado he'd mentioned were a thing of the past. He'd known for some time now that Tony Stark was a lie and his ego was inflated only to keep the man from drowning. He wondered if he was any better.

The meeting had brought up an unexpected slew of feelings and he was suddenly very tired. Even so, there was the instinct to be alert in his surroundings, backtrack and circle and confuse so that if anyone were following they would be sure to grow confused. He did this for the better part of an hour before making his way to the meeting spot.

Natasha was waiting, sipping a glass of something and blending easily into the crowd to any who weren't looking for her. When he got to the table outside the small cafe, she rose and kissed him hello.

"Hey sweetheart, you sure took your time." Her teasing was pointed, he'd taken longer than anticipated and she was asking if they needed to skip to plan B.

"Sorry honey got caught up in my public radio." No, he reassured her, it was just his own paranoia that had them off schedule. Her eyes narrowed and he got the feeling she would have preferred he'd been followed.

"Well come on, we're going to miss the movie if we keep dawdling." He tossed a few bills on the table and they held hands as they strolled down the street, looking to any passersby as just another couple out for the day. They walked in silence and he privately relished the human contact. People did not often touch him these days. Wanda cuddled, on occasion. Sometimes there was a clap on the back by one of the others.

Natasha alone had been giving him that tenuous connection to others. He wasn't sure what to think about that. It couldn't end well, but then he trusted her more than he did most anybody else and he wasn't sure what to think about that either.

But she didn't let go of his hand the entire way back to where they were staying.

 **"So. We're meeting Stark tomorrow?" She finally asked once they were back in their room.** He chucked the disguise, at least for the time being. The jacket, the ball cap, the heavy watch that weighed him down, all of it went in a heap on the chair. Natasha sat cross-legged on the bed, watching him disrobe with a kind of clinical interest as he divested himself of his shirt and changed into something more comfortable.

He supposed he ought to have gone into the bathroom for that. But it was Natasha, and he was tired and honestly, she would have just followed him into the other room so what did it matter? At least that's what he was telling himself. Something felt rough and raw every time he took a breath.

"I think he's sincere in his request. Whoever this monster is, they're starting to try and hurt more people. The thing of it is, the bombers who go in haven't really been making sense, at least according to witnesses. They seem almost... robotic?" He should have been more focused on the reason they were there, not let himself be goaded into fights with Tony-

"Some form of mind control maybe?" She suggested. He shrugged.

"If that's the case, then whoever is behind this has to have access to that kind of technology. Which means we might be stirring up a hornet's nest." He warned.

"It happens. We get bug spray and we handle it." She replied easily. He wished he had her confidence.

"So. The two of you talked quite a bit." Tasha continued evenly. It was a statement because they both knew she didn't need to bother with questions.

"Yes. We did." He didn't want to get into this and yet he thought he might burst if he didn't say anything to anyone.

"He sounds like the same old Stark." Again, no questions. It was worse than if she'd just interrogated him from the start. At least then there was something to fight back against, there were protests that could be made. But she wasn't going to give him the out.

"None of us are the same." She continued to watch him, silent and waiting even when he took a seat beside her.

"You look tired Steve." She murmured.

"We got up early." He replied because it was easier.

"We could go back. The others will follow your lead." She said quietly. He relished the warmth from her small hand rubbing circles in his back.

"We can't leave innocent people suffering because of my mistakes. Tomorrow, we'll meet Tony and see if we can get the final details hammered out. Then we'll go back. Prepare the team for everything." He glanced over and she nodded her agreement.

"I should reach out. I told him I'd get in touch with a time and place, the sooner we handle this-" He went for the phone and she stilled his hand.

"Steve. Look at me." Her command was firm and gentle and so he met her eyes.

"This is nothing like before. You're going to do something good here, but not for penance. It's because that's who you are. It's good leadership and it's a smart move if we're going to get the other's their lives back. Right?" When he nodded, she smiled slightly.

"Let's hammer out the schedule for tomorrow and then let Stark know. Go from there." She went to the directory, glancing through it briefly before he spoke up again.

"Natasha... thank you." She nodded and he wanted to say more but kept silent. The quiet was something they both understood.

 **Early the next morning, so that the sun was only just rising he sat up in a cold sweat, heart hammering from the past and his heart plummeting right over the side of bridges decades gone.**

"Cap. Hey. Hey. Just a dream." Natasha was there, crooning and soothing, her manipulations in full force and it made him pull away from her outstretched hand. So many faces, too many faces. Bucky falling and Peggy crying and Wanda screaming while Tony shouted up at him to stop all this, to make the pain stop. Dream Steve continued his punches, hitting Tony in the face over and over but then it was Bucky's face and Wanda's and Peggy was crying, and her voice morphed into Wanda's doing the same thing and somehow they'd all surrounded him-

"STEVE." She yanked him back from the brink, on her knees with her front pressed to his back and arms wrapping around him. Somewhere dimly he thought maybe she would just choke him out, and really it wouldn't surprise him if that was how she handled his nightmares. Instead, one hand was splayed across his chest and the other was cupping his cheek, fingers going up into his hair to stroke while her lips were on his neck, intimate and breath warm.

"I've got you. I've got you." He hadn't realized he was shaking, the nightmares having followed him into the real world. His body trembled against hers, even while he tried to force himself to slow his breathing.

"You're awake. I've got you." That same tone she'd used on the Hulk was here now, soft and sweet as she managed to pull him away from his own beast. He wanted to thank her and simultaneously push her away. He couldn't remember the last time someone had caught him in the midst of one of his nightmares.

"We should start getting ready. The meeting is early." It was all he could get out and yet he made no move to leave her arms. He couldn't.

"I know." She kissed his shoulder, his neck, her fingertips gentle and then the hand on his chest began a slow caress down south.

"Nat what-"

"Shhh." The hand continued its path, her teeth nibbling on him and hand cupping him through his sweats and it felt good, amazing even when she began to stroke him. Why couldn't he just give himself over to it-

"I've got you, Captain." She whispered and that was what did it, the title. He was a mark, her mission. Something to toy with and tease, to pass the 's all this was, all it ever was. Suddenly he felt as though he might be sick, and shoved away from the bed, rising so abruptly she nearly tumbled over.

"I'm not playing this game with you, Romanoff." He could already taste the bitter acid rising in his throat, while Natasha blinked up at him in what appeared to be genuine shock.

"Steve-"

"We need to get ready. The meeting is at 9. Reach out to the others while I talk to Stark, we'll be sending for them soon." His tone brokered no argument, his quick turn into the bathroom didn't let her reply.

 **They still weren't talking two hours later when they made their way to the meeting sight.** Everything had been discussed and gone over the day before, including back up plans and variables to try and take into consideration. Unfortunately, that meant there was no need to speak now.

At least, that was how he assumed Natasha saw it, seeing as she'd been gone when he came out of the bathroom and he hadn't seen hide nor tail of her right until they'd needed to leave. When he went out to look for a cab she'd pulled up to the door in a nondescript tan car that he really hoped wasn't stolen. As soon as he'd slid in, she was already pulling away even while the door was still closing behind him.

The silent treatment was bugging at him, if only because she was so damn good at it. Every answer she gave to any attempt at conversation was cool. Not angry or irritated just... civil. In a very chilly way.

When she pulled up to the park where he and Tony had agreed to meet, he turned to her.

"So about the plan-" He began.

"Make sure your comm is on the right frequency. I'll be listening. Get out. Get the folder and leave." She finished for him, engine idling and face bored. With a sigh, he climbed out and turned to face her. He'd been too hasty this morning and possibly alienated his only ally.

"Well, yeah. But about this morning-" He tried again but she was in no mood to hear it.

"Don't drag your feet after you talk to him. We need to get out of the city, we've been here long enough."

"Romanoff-"

Her reply was to pull away, the tires screeching and leaving him coughing in a cloud of dust.


	10. Chapter 10: The meet up, take two

**CHAPTER 10: The meet up, take two**

While Steve headed for his meet up in the park, Natasha was ditching the car and backtracking to keep an eye on things. While excellent at multi-tasking and compartmentalizing, she was doing her spy level best to keep her mind on the task at hand.

Otherwise, part of her brain was going to have to consider what had happened that morning between her and a certain tall blonde and at least eight different guilt complexes man that morning. This was not an option. She had a mission to complete and reflecting on the fact that the Captain did not trust her enough to let her-

Let her what exactly?

She'd already determined as soon as he went into the bathroom that there had been a misunderstanding. She was doing her job, namely, to assist him in whatever way was necessary. Men were so easy, all had the same set of buttons to push you just needed to know the right order. Clint, for example. Despite being one of her oldest friends, he had never been the leader between the two of them and the majority of the time didn't question orders. It's why he was such a good marksman and why she had reached out after getting dressed and leaving the room that morning.

"Did you meet with Stark? Cap turn him down yet?" Had been his greeting.

"Not yet, unfortunately for us." She'd been in the process of jimmying the lock on a gray Mazda and so missed what his snarky reply was.

"Get the team ready to move. Is Wanda well enough to come in?" She continued, using the small knife she'd stolen out of the hotel's kitchen before she'd left that morning.

"She's begun to talk a little bit, but not much. She's not up to a job yet if Cap is wanting us to come in on this one. I thought you were meeting with Stark yesterday?" He replied. She nearly had the lock- there. Easy enough. And starting it would take even less time with her trusty pilfered utensil.

"Then she stays out, at this point she's just a liability. Though I'm not sure where this one is going, The Captain let emotions cloud his thinking, he's arranged another meetup. He and Tony got into it at the first one." She answered, head under the dash. There should have been a button- yup, there it was and then she was able to pop the hood. Really, people needed to have better protection on their vehicles but most were gullible enough to feel secure in a world constantly on verge of collapse...

"So Stark was an ass, big surprise there. I'm surprised it isn't listed on his resume under special skills. Maybe he ought to put that on a business card. 'Sucks at being a team player, grade A - Ass." She wasn't in the mood for his quips, in fact, she was more than ready to bash some heads in but it didn't look like that would be on the agenda anytime soon. To anyone passing by, she looked like she was doing work on her engine, or maybe refilling the windshield wiper fluid. It would never occur to them to question why she didn't have any tools or a gallon of fluid at her feet. If she had a child, she would have made sure they knew enough to observe. Nobody ever really saw anything these days.

"There were words that needed to be said on each side. It happens." She didn't know why she was playing devil's advocate, Steve was a big boy who could manage perfectly well on his own. Ignoring a curious passerby who paused to watch her sit up, the engine rumbled to life and she slammed the hood shut, climbing into the driver's seat. At least they bothered to keep their car clean, whoever owned the vehicle. A quick glance in the glove compartment brought out the papers, some Willis guy. Sorry, Willis.

"I hope he let him have it." Clint continued. "Stark could stand to drop a few pegs. How Pepper could put up with him-"

"I didn't call to gossip or bad mouth anyone, we have a job to do." She reminded him sharply. Typical Clint. Cold behind the bow and arrow, but a hothead anywhere else. She began to drive back to the hotel, twirling the knife in between one set of slim fingers.

"Nat?" He was checking on her and she didn't like that she sounded off enough that someone could notice it.

"Make sure they're ready. I think he intends to get involved in this and if that's the case the team needs to decide who's coming and who's staying back. Wanda's obviously not coming and whoever stays with her will need to help her with her training. It'll help her get back into a routine-"

"Nat what's going on? I'm ready for back up, send me your coordinates-"

"It's nothing I can't handle." Because she could handle Steve just fine. Their captain was on fraying edges and borrowed time, at some point he was going to go nuclear. Really, Natasha wasn't surprised after everything he'd been through. This frustration had been building for years, the moment Fury thawed him out. He let off steam through very physical activities but she'd been in his position and knew that punching bags only helped for so long. The entire world had been watching him for ages, the team looking to he and Tony the way his old crew had. It was a role he fell into naturally, but the road to leadership was a lonely one.

She knew what it was like, to have to be the best always. The difference between them was that if he wasn't at his best, people suffered. Lives were lost. If she wasn't at her best, the exact opposite. Both situations caused problems.

He was emotionally unstable, she was certain of it. Especially after that morning's events, it had been quite some time since he'd snapped at her with such open distrust. She ignored the twinges that caused because they didn't matter. If the others were going to get normal lives back, she was going to have to put up with some discomfort. He was devolving and it wasn't going to end well, that Natasha was sure of. She just needed to make certain precautions were taken so there were no casualties.

"An unexpected development, I'm looking into it. I've got it." She assured Clint because he wasn't going to stop otherwise. She could handle Steve. Even the great Captain America had soft spots, had those same buttons as everyone else.

"Alright..." His dubious tone made it obvious he didn't believe her, but she said nothing and after another moment he gave up. "Call when you're ready for us, or come back. I'll make sure to get the guys up and running." He promised her. She nodded and hung up. Clint, she could count on. He had a clear motivation, his family. He had a clear goal, returning to them. There was a carrot to dangle there if he went off the rails on Stark here. She knew which buttons to press, what order would work best.

She just needed to figure out what Steve's buttons were.

 **"You actually showed." Tony's surprise chafed against Steve's earlier irritation, and he fixed the man with a look before sitting on the bench beside him.** It was a busy enough area, joggers and people with dogs, children shrieking and laughing at the nearby playground. An ice cream vendor was hawking frozen treats a few feet away. And the trees would make sure there was poor visibility, just in case.

"I arranged the meeting, why wouldn't I come?" Tony shrugged at him.

"I dunno. Mistrust, last minute change of plans, a laugh at my expense?" He offered. Steve didn't say anything.

"Listen, you want a coffee? There's a cart right down the road there, I'm buying. You still take it black? The park actually has pretty decent-" Tony was rambling and Steve could already feel a headache coming in. Super serum did not erase the pain, unfortunately, though it had been a very long time since he'd been sick.

"Where's the folder, Tony?" Steve cut in. He wasn't here to chat. He needed to get the job's details and then get back to Romanoff and fix things. "You said you were going to bring the information today." Stark rolled his eyes.

"Listen, this isn't the stone age anymore. We don't do things like folders, this isn't the 40's's." Despite his ribbing, he passed a manilla folder over, as well as a little black USB.

"The USB has the deep stuff, goes more in depth. The folder is just the basics but it should get you started." He explained while Steve opened it up to look at the contents.

"It's got a quick overview and photos of the sites and a few suspects, descriptions the officials have gathered of a possible perpetrator. The players involved, sites that have been hit and all that. Seriously, my head is killing me, you sure you don't want a coffee? It's early, I can't believe people get up at this hour." He held a hand up to his head, groaning loudly.

"Tony I'm not-"

"Just walk with me then. God, you got any aspirin? You're basically a boy scout, always come prepared is your motto right?" He taunted, rising somewhat unsteadily. Force of habit had Steve's arm snapping out to assist his former friend and then he was irritated with himself for trying to help the man.

"I'm going to look this over and then I'll reach out-" He began but Tony shook his head and then winced.

"Got more to tell you about. If you're gonna get involved you need to know what we know. And I'm not saying anything else until I get a damn coffee." He sauntered off down the path and despite a moment's indecision, Steve trailed behind.

True to his word, the cart was only just a little way down from the bench and Tony was already in the process of ordering when Steve caught up to him.

"And whatever he wants." Tony finished, nodding at Steve.

"Um.. just gimme a water. Please." He amended. The vendor nodded and took Tony's card, passing a receipt over to sign and a receipt to keep. Tony scribbled his signature, passed on the piece of paper back to the vendor and then wrote something on the other piece and passed it over to Steve.

BEING WATCHED. CAREFUL WORDS. COFFEE BLOCKED.

The vendor passed over a to-go cup, a bag of nuts and a water bottle and Steve nodded at the man but his eyes were on Stark.

"Thanks." He told him. Stark locked eyes with him and Steve found himself wondering if this was some kind of trap or if his old teammate truly was trying to warn him. If it was the latter, the government was watching, possibly looking to take him in.

"Don't mention it," Tony replied easily. The coffee cart must have blocked them from view. He used a napkin to write a note back, sipping his water while his hand scratched out a quick question.

EARS TOO?

Tony nodded, ever so slightly.

They took a step away from the cart, just enough to move out of line. Steve threw the napkin away.

"What's the goal here? We're supposed to work together?" Steve asked, letting out a breath. They were listening in. Nat could be in danger and maybe they were waiting to take him in.

"Yeah, that's about it." Tony agreed. Steve sipped.

"What's in it for my team?" Stark blinked and then his head tilted.

"Wanna run that by me again pal?" Tony asked.

"I said. What's in it for my people? They're perfectly fine where they are. We can find other ways to help people and let you handle this mess on your own." He hadn't discussed this part quite yet with the others, Natasha included. Which meant he was sure to get an earful when he and Nat met back up.

"You-you're serious. You're actually serious? We never asked for anything before." Tony's shock left him chuckling bitterly.

"Things were different before. If I wanted to walk into a supermarket to get bread and milk, I didn't need a disguise to do it." Tony shifted, head tilting to the other side now and Steve braced himself. He knew that look.

"So that's why you're here. Forget about helping people, it's about seeing what you can get? What, you thought this would buy you a free pass back, the slate wiped clean?" He scoffed. "Captain America huh? Sounds about right, even heroes need capitalism I guess." Steve's jaw clenched.

"Don't even try to take that route with me. How much did those jeans cost? Hmm?" He nodded at the other man's wrist. "That watch you're wearing, did you pick it out yourself or is it a one of kind? Those shoes, they're Italian right? Nothing but the best for Tony Stark and his 'pals.' " Tony's reply was to step into his face, eyes narrowed.

"My pals aren't assassins and parent killers." He growled.

"No, they just enlist children to fight their battles. How old was that kid in the spider costume anyway? Twelve?"Steve retorted.

"I think you're mad cause he took away your shield." Tony snickered, "No, you know what? He took BACK _my_ father's shield. Not so tough when you don't have metal arm and baby witch to back you up, are you?" Tony demanded, still toe to toe.

"Cap, something's going on over by the park-" Natasha's voice was there, trying to diffuse but that instinct to protect was triggered at the mention of Bucky and became full-blown anger when Tony brought up Wanda.

"Don't talk about them. You don't get to talk about them, especially not Wanda. I know you and your accords tried to strip her of her identity on that raft, but she remembers that much. No thanks to you!" His earpiece screeched in annoyance and then Natasha came through again.

"Steve I'm picking up some odd signatures, they're nearby your location. Do you copy?" Tony chose that moment to give him a shove and he nearly went sprawling.

"Point is, now it's just you and me. Cut the crap and put your money where your mouth is." He dared him, voice low and eyes steady. He was ready for a fight. So was Steve.

"Get out of here, go! STEVE THERE'S-" Natasha's shout in warning was drowned out by a sudden explosion from behind before the comm went silent.


	11. Chapter 11: Clean up crew

**Here's some drama before some drama causing stuff. See if you can spot the easter egg I tucked into this chapter btw; I'm kinda proud of it :D**

 **CHAPTER 11: Clean up crew**

"Natasha?! Natasha do you copy?!"

The loud bang was enough to rock both Tony and Steve on their feet, but the Captain had one concern. People were screaming, wailing and fish trying to swim upstream as they ran for cover.

"Nat answer me!" His heart rose up from his stomach only when there was a crackling and then there she was.

"I'm alright; it was the ice cream cart. Get here NOW I think this is our guy!"

Tony was at his side, eyes huge and holding his own before he nodded sharply.

"She's alright." He promised. Tony sagged back but just as quickly was on the go. The same watch Steve had insulted earlier was now unfolding itself, one of Tony's suits in disguise. Together, they ran in the direction people were trying to flee.

The cheerfully decorated stand with its big multi-colored umbrella and full white stand on wheels were now in flames, at least what remained was. The trees nearby had caught fire, pieces of the cart that had gone flying in the explosion had spread flares to the grass. There were civilians down; a little boy was crying and curled against his mother's bloody form while another man's body lay at the base of a tree.

"You take care of the fire, I'll check the victims," Steve ordered. Tony nodded and flew off, suit already blowing out foam to extinguish the wreckage while Steve headed for the boy, finger on his comm.

"Nat, what's your status?" He knelt by the blood-stained woman, there was a bit of something jagged sticking out of her leg, and she was unconscious. The little boy was sobbing; he couldn't be more than three.

"I'm in pursuit of our suspected target-" She broke off in a sudden grunt of pain, one that gave him pause but a child was crying, and he couldn't be distracted. He had to trust that Romanoff could do her job.

"Target's using some mind control; he's got civilians blocking my way and- oh come on! And they're throwing punches-" She reported, another grunt and the sound of banshee-like shrieks in the background.

"Copy that. Hey bud, everything's gonna be okay. Is this your mother?" He asked the still wailing child. The boy nodded, his thick curls covered in ash and debris and eyes red from dust in the air. It was a pitiful sight, and Steve found himself cuddling the kid on instinct.

"Alright. Well, your mom's going to be okay, I'm gonna see if I can help her okay? Stay right here by me buddy." When the child huddled close, he turned his attention to the woman."Ma'am? Ma'am, can you hear me?" There was no response forthcoming, but she did seem to stir a little. A quick check of her pulse showed that it was elevated but steady. She'd probably just been knocked out in the blast, but it seemed she would live if he could get the bleeding to stop.

Using a bit of her torn pant leg, he created a makeshift tourniquet around the injured limb that was sticky red to the touch. It seemed to staunch the bleeding but she was still unconscious, and he couldn't leave the little boy alone-

"Miles?! Miles there you are! Oh my god, Rio-" Another woman came hurrying up, blonde hair disheveled and blue eyes filling with relief even as she hugged the child protectively. "Are you hurt sweetie? Let me see, Rio? Rio can you hear me?!" She gulped down air, a few calming breaths before her attention turned to Steve.

"Thank you, sir. I think someone called 911, but my friend, is she alright? Are you a doctor?" There was another commotion over his comm, right about the time Tony started calling for him from a few yards over.

"No ma'am, just trying to lend a hand where I can. Stay with the little boy until help arrives!" He commanded, taking off at a run. He got to Tony first, who was trying to put little fires out and keep track of potential victims in the chaos. Most had taken their children from the nearby playground at a dead run, snatching them up off slides and swings and dashing for vehicles. There was now a traffic jam, two cars had collided, children were crying, and horns were blaring.

Steve checked on three more people, a jogger and a couple walking their dog. The dog was whining and limping, but its owners seemed okay if a little shaken. They assured him they hadn't been close to the blast, in fact, they were barely on the edge of the area when the ice cream cart had blown up. Unfortunately, the jogger hadn't been so lucky.

He was making an odd gurgling noise when Steve got to him; a quick check showed multiple fragments had pierced an equally large amount of spots on his body. Blood was trickling from his mouth, and he gripped Steve's hand when he kneeled, face a worrying shade of gray at this point.

"It- it was.. the- the man-" He rasped.

"What man? You saw who did this?" Steve asked, trying to tune everything out and focus on the eyewitness. The man coughed, sending a spray of blood across his muscle tank.

"On- on edge- the man on the edge. He made the ice-icecream-cream ma- do it..." Suddenly he looked stricken and yanked on Steve insistently.

"Wha-"

"You. You're- you're Cap- Cap- my niece lo-" He coughed again, and Steve tried to quiet him, tried to stop bleeding where he could. "Loves you..." He continued, more blood coming down.

"TONY SEND THE SQUADS OVER HERE, I NEED SOME HELP!" He called out. Stark flew off to get an EMT over from an ambulance that had finally arrived, but the man shook his head.

"You're... you're Cap-" He gasped, and Steve nodded to help keep him alert.

"That's right; I'm Captain America. Got a niece huh, how old is she?"

"Fi- five.. just turned five. Nev-never lis- listened to that bull on the - " He coughed hard, sweating profusely and paling further. "You're a- a hero Cap. No matter what the- the ass holes say" He swore, sagging back.

"Hey hey hey hey, stay with me now. What's your name huh? What's your niece's name, how'd she like a visit from the Cap? Huh?" Had to keep him talking, if he could keep the man alert and talking they could get him to the hospital.

"No-name's Nora. Nora, she-she's five. Jus-just turned five.." He was getting weaker, and his grip was beginning to ease up on Steve now.

"Five, that's a good age. Probably likes to play a lot with um.. with dolls maybe? Or trucks or blocks and stuff?" He prodded. The man panted, coughed at him with another spray.

"She- she plays dress up.. dressing- got a-" He was starting to close his eyes, couldn't let him close his eyes.

"Got a what?" Steve asked, retaking hold of his hand. This new firm grip seemed to bring a little bit of energy back, the man's eyes opened again.

"Got 'er a- a shhh... shield. Fer birth-birthday..." The eyes were closed, the mouth was losing motor function as the words grew as slippery as the copper-scented stains on Steve's hands.

" Oh, you got her a shield! A shield like mine, bet she loved that. And what's your name? What's her uncle's name?" He wasn't going to lose him; he could save him, knew he could.

"S'... S' Benjamin.. calls me Jam cause she-she couldn't always- say..." His words were slurring, where the hell were the emergency services?! Steve did his best to shift him without causing too much damage, but there was so much blood, and there was a gash in his side-

"You and I Benjamin, we'll go see her." He promised, and the man smiled, mouth painted in red with a grotesque beauty.

"She'd go nuts. You're her favorite hero. You're a hero Cap." He said, clear as day. Steve smiled back.

Then the life left his eyes, going blank as his body went limp. There was a final, horrible gurgling as the last bit of air left his body, and then there was nothing but a cold and still form still holding onto Steve until that too went away. Benjamin's hold softened, and then his hand fell.

Another chip broke off in Steve's chest, slowly he let Benjamin's eyes close. He rose, there was nothing else that he could do, but it felt so wrong to leave a body behind like that. It always had, pre-ice and after the Avengers disbanded.

"Rogers could use a hand here!" It was so unlike Nat to ask for assistance that he tucked away that wrongness, mentally compartmentalized it for later. Now, there was no time to reflect.

"What's your position?" He asked, charging in her last known direction. "Romanoff do you copy, what's your-"

"Fountain, I'm by the fountain! Getting overrun here too." There were a few moans of pain, though he didn't recognize them as hers. He lifted a taser off a squad car that had recently been vacated and headed for the fountain, catching sight of Natasha in a sea of people swarming her.

"Took your time, those old knees of yours creaking today?" She called out.

"Is now really the time for cracking jokes at my expense?" He demanded, tasing the first person he came into contact with. The woman jerked, fell in a heap and then he was on the move again.

"You'd think it was funny if you weren't such an old curmudgeon," Natasha replied, punching a young man and then hitting him again. The teen crashed into a cluster of folks behind him, and they fell too, like bowling pins.

"Not in the mood Romanoff." Steve tased someone else, knocked a few heads together. As it was, the group had begun to stumble back, shaking and holding their heads in confusion. There were only a few particularly determined ones, and they were quickly dispatched. Soon enough, the group of roughly 30 were either knocked out or wandering away. Some were grouping; Steve could hear the same questions murmured amongst each cluster.

"Where am I?"

"What's going on?"

"Has anybody seen my wife?"

Natasha had several scratches and bruises, and part of her lip was swollen but otherwise seemed to be in one piece.

"That's a lot of blood." She said, staring hard enough that he wondered whether or not she was using X-ray vision. He looked down, Miles' mother and Benjamin had left behind a lot of stains. His hands and nailbeds were a blur of red.

"Not mine." Natasha's face fell, and she nodded in understanding but didn't ask questions. "Did you get a good look at the inhuman?" She nodded.

"5'9 wore glasses. Black rectangular frames. Caucasian, styled brown hair with sharp features, carried a laptop bag with him. He looked like a college professor. I'm thinking that's how he detonated the bomb; he did it from the computer in the bag." She told him. Steve considered.

"If he had a detonator, why use the mind control? That's a good way of singling himself out." Steve muttered.

"Maybe it was to get people into position? Have them put the bomb in place themselves and then he gets to watch the fallout." She suggested.

"Could be. Did the suspect say anything when you came into contact with him?" He asked. Natasha frowned.

"He said... he said, "the masses would have to pay attention now. If children must be seen and not heard, then so would his actions be seen until he was heard." She looked up at Steve, absentmindedly tasing a straggler who tried to rush them. "What do you think he meant?"

"I don't know. But he's trying to get the point across, which means this doesn't end until he feels like we're listening to whatever he's trying to say." He sighed, following the former spy when she stepped over their attacker's twitching body. Together, they headed for the playground where sirens and flashing lights were now screeching in unison. Tony met them at the edge of it all, landing neatly and suit folding in on itself until it was once again a watch.

"What's the status here?" Steve asked.

"Settling. Fires are out, and emergency services are taking over." He answered.

"Good. About earlier-" Steve began.

"Now get out." Tony finished. Steve blinked, and even Natasha seemed taken aback.

"Excuse me?"

"You did your part. Played hero. Take the folder and the drive and go." He answered, shrugging carelessly. His jaw was set, one of his eyes twitched as he flung both folder and USB at his old friend.

"You call this playing hero? Trying to help people who are hurt?!" Steve growled. Tony shrugged again, almost bored as he looked about him with a casual air that was at odds with the chaos around them.

"I wanted to help people, you wanted whatever you could get from doing that. Felt like playing god too, nobody keeping you in check. So you can go, I can handle this on my own." Steve was seething, seeing Benjamin's smile at mentioning Nora and a little boy crying out of fear. And now, Stark's devil may care attitude coming out once more in full force.

"Not happening. My team does work to help people, rules and regulations be damned Stark." He snapped. Natasha tugged on him, already turning away.

"Let's go, Rogers. We need to go, come on-" She pulled on him again, surprisingly strong but he wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

"Great speech Cap, I'm sure they'd love that quote for the times." Tony smiled at him and nodded at the folder. "If you decide to go back to being someone decent, lemme know."

"How would you know what decent is? You've never been DECENT a day in your life you-"

" _Steve_. Enough. Come on!" Natasha hauled him away before he could finish the insult and only a tight grasp on his collar kept him at her side. Stark disappeared in the smoke and haze, still waving as he fell out of sight.


	12. Chapter 12: So it goes

**Here's that M you all have been waiting for because lord knows I love the tension and angry kisses. Also, for some reason, this chapter was written differently than the others. It sounds weird, but every time I tried to write it, it was present tense in Steve's POV, not a sort of third person omnipotent like the other chapters. Hopefully, things didn't get too OCC**

 **Also, TRIGGER WARNING because things are a little rough and also there is some kind of iffy moments of self-hate. It's not big, but I'll mark it just in case**

 **CHAPTER 12: So it goes**

There were too many things that had hidden away, gone murky and dark inside. He and Natasha ran from the park, then slowed to a walk and lost themselves among the cars near the trail. She retrieves their things from the original car they'd used that morning and moves the bags to a green truck bed. The jogger's path made him think of Benjamin and little Nora who would have no more memories with her uncle. Natasha seemed unbothered while she broke into yet another vehicle, this time a truck. Something old and beat up enough that it wouldn't garner much attention.

He yanks at the door and scowls at the rust on his hand but can't separate it from the blood. Both are wiped away at the interior of the truck's cab. They buckle, and Natasha drives away, glancing at him every so often.

"We need to get cleaned up; we're too noticeable like this." She tells him, and he is fine with her taking the lead, even more, fine with never leading again. She pulls off at a gas station, something in her sharp eyes and flirty smile makes the twerpy teen at the register hand over the bathroom keys without protest. She tosses him the set for the men's room along with a tourist atrocity that is an "I 3 New York!" T-shirt and then disappears into the ladies room.

He goes in, locks the door behind him. Looks into the mirror. Steve thinks back to the early days, after the battle of New York. He used to have lots of people asking for pictures and young ladies who seemed especially nervous to speak with him. Several had asked for hugs or kisses to the cheek and he had allowed it because most were not pushy and all were nervous giggles. America's golden boy, with golden looks and a golden body. He was a hero, a "national treasure" he was a statue with no feelings and a leader with pride. They would pose, there were shields sold in his honor. High fives to children and smiles to passerby.

It was exhausting.

What would they do if they saw him now?

He wasn't sure. He didn't care. None of that mattered, did it? At the end of the day, he was the serum. He was the Captain, He was the shield. He was everybody's friend, everyone's leader-

He was now covered in drywall from the hole he'd just punched into the wall beside him. It felt nice. Destruction. Fist stinging and something hard to hit.

Carefully, he removed his shirt, folded it mechanically. Looked at himself in the mirror again.

 *****TW*****

Punched the mirror out.

His fist was cut up, and the blood ran his blood. Not someone else's being spilled for once. It was satisfying, in a twisted way that he wasn't entirely comfortable with. When he rinsed it out in the sink, the water ran red until the little pieces of glass had been washed away. There's a first aid kit, taped above the toilet and he uses it to patch himself up before putting the new shirt on. It's a scratchy cotton blend but feels better once the tag is cut out. His hands are sore.

 *****TW OVER*****

Steve thinks he could use a punching bag or three.

When this is said and done, he washes away the rest of the soot from the fires and slicks back his hair. Feels a little better, and cleaner for sure. He leaves behind the bathroom, now in shambles and Natasha comes out, has changed as well. For some reason, the spy in a truck stop turquoise sundress makes him sad and snicker at the same time. She smacks him with the oversized card the keys are hooked on so that you can't steal them.

"Say anything, and I'll hang you by your thumbs." She warns.

"We don't have the time for me to pay a proper compliment anyway." He says.

She smacks him again.

They don't keep the truck for long, in fact, it's ditched a few streets later. Together they stroll, a tourist pair oohing and ahhing over some sights. They hop on a bus and make small talk over the pamphlet Nat squirreled away in the tote bag she bought at the gas station. Get off the bus and walk again, hire a man with a bike and a cart to take them through traffic and scores of people. They stop again, and Natasha buys him large cotton candy and a soft pretzel.

There is something very pre-serum Cap about this treat, and there are different flavors now too. More than he ever remembers there being. Half are ones dubiously named for fruits that don't exist. Raspberries are red; they are not blue. Never has he seen a blue raspberry. Natasha tells him to live a little.

He argues for the pink, a classic. He can remember when it was a quarter at fairs. She orders the blue, tells him to add it to his list. It is two dollars and twenty-five cents. He hasn't had cotton candy in decades, she has had it maybe never. He begrudgingly admits this blue raspberry is cloyingly sweet and delightfully blue, with a hint of sour. He eats one piece, and then another. She takes a piece without asking, and eyes his pretzel until he caves and passes her a chunk. They both are left with blue mouths and buttery, sticky fingers.

They walk on.

 **She's found them some hole in the wall motel, with a view of the river. Neither have ever been much for settling down and so unpacking is a quick affair with things left in bags and changing into their clothes.** He's pacing, the sugar from the cotton candy and the adrenaline of the day's early fights are a potent cocktail. Something is simmering in his gut, and there's a headache brewing just behind his eyes and settling in his temples.

Natasha takes up a perch by the window, watching while he removes his tourist trap shirt with a kind of clinical disinterest. It occurs to him that he should probably go into the bathroom, but she was just as likely to follow him so what's the point?

"Are you hurt at all?" He asks, because he cares and because he's supposed to.

"Nothing I can't handle. Tomorrow I'll be fine." She tells him because it's what they are both expecting.

And then he surprises himself.

"Let me see." He insists. She raises an eyebrow but pulls off her shirt. True to her word, there are a few bruises and scratches but nothing terrible. Likely the rest haven't shown up yet. He touches her all the same, his fingers brush each mark, and then he feels one of her scars. He remembers this one.

"How are those bikinis working for you?" He asks. She smirks.

"Maybe one day you'll find out."

"Maybe I will." He's looking at her too closely, his hands are still on her body, and he jerks them away. He isn't allowed to cross this line, he is the leader, and that means keeping the lines drawn in the sand clear.

"We should look at the information Stark gave us, maybe figure out what our next move is." He suggests. He needs something to take his mind off the feel of her and that feeling of teetering too close to the edge.

"So you intend to help him then." She doesn't ask; there is no judgment in her tone. But there is nothing else in her tone; she is void of emotion. For some reason, that carefully neutral position rubs him the wrong way, enough that he narrows his eyes.

"I'm not helping him. I'm helping the innocent people being affected by this maniac."

"Is that what you were doing when you were getting into it with Stark?" Again, no accusation. Bordeom. Or perhaps curiosity. Whatever it is, there's no concern, and yet, he chafes at her question.

"I wasn't getting into it with Tony. He made comments that needed to be corrected."

"They needed to be corrected right then and there, instead of focusing on the task at hand?" She asks, her arms folding.

"He was being an ass; you know how Stark is-"

"Yes, I do. He's always an ass; it's one of his charms. We should have been gone by now, but your emotions got in the way, and you set up a second meeting that increased our risk." Still the spy, always the spy with a target and a mark to nail.

"I needed more details then he was willing to offer at the first meeting." He lies, to her and himself.

"You wanted a second chance. Yesterday, and today. You were childish, giving into him." He's spoiling for a fight, been ready for one ever since they left the park and that comment gives him an opening.

"Childish? Because I want to be sure we're not working with an egotistical-" But she won't let him run with the thought, cut to the quick, so the wind is taken from his sails.

"You both are egotistical, both of you were arguing with the other. There are hurt feelings on both sides, and that means seeing that he wasn't entirely wrong. It was how he went about things. Tony isn't the villain you want him to be, and you're not the black and white hero you pretend you are." She informs him matter of factly.

"I don't need you playing devil's advocate here Natasha; you already did that when taking a stand could have made an actual difference. But you were so used to playing both sides that you were too far undercover. You hid instead of helped." He snaps. Her head tilts in reply, stance stiffening.

"I helped you too, don't forget. I let you and Barnes go, I was there when Agent Carter-"

"Don't. DON'T." He warns. He can't think about Peggy while his fingers itch for Natasha and he cannot want Natasha without letting down Peggy. It' so carnal. So… _human._

"I lost a family too Rogers. You and the others seem keen on forgetting that. You're so set on focusing on what happened between you and Tony; you're letting it cloud your judgment now." She hisses. Maybe he's hurt her; his words have scratched at her center. But he continues to push.

"Do you know what family IS Natasha? Really?!" He demands. She rises, stepping into his space and murder in her eyes.

"Family is dealing with idiot human popsicles because you know they're not mad at you. They're mad at themselves." She replies, voice still and heavy.

"Why should I be mad at myself?! I did _everything_ right! I abstained, I sacrificed, I trained, I-"

"You were a hypocrite" She cuts in.

"I- what?" He couldn't have been more shocked if she'd chosen to hit him, though she looks as if she'd like to.

"All of that was a facade." She answers simply.

"You're the one with multiple identities. I don't think you have an honest bone in your body." He's grasping at straws but the Widow has spun her web, and she's going in for the kill.

"You want to accuse people of wearing masks and sling mud in _my_ face?" She doesn't need to use her fists; her words are landing a blow for blow. "You're no golden boy; you're a hypocrite. All of that fighting for the little guy was you trying to turn back the clock and stand up for yourself." The Widow moves in closer, and he is a fly, caught and entangled.

"Stop it-

" It's always been that way, a team to reaffirm you're no longer that weakling who got his ass kicked in back alleys. You didn't go after Peggy Carter; you missed out. Because you wouldn't just take what you wanted. You were so afraid of letting her down, and then letting the Avengers down. You hide behind sacrifice and leadership because if there are rules and expectations, you might not live up to them."She stares at him, lips turning up into something horrid.

" _Is that truthful enough for you Rogers?"_

They breathe hard, she's staring up at him, and his nose is full of her.

Then his lips mold themselves to hers, and she doesn't protest.

 **Steve isn't sure later on why she allows it.** He can't be sure If that hungry kiss had been her goal, if fighting was just one of her turn-ons or if they had been on their way to this destination all along. But somehow, at the moment it's all he can do to breathe, he can't get enough of her.

They're kissing, and it feels _good_. He's a little clumsy, but he's eager and angry, and she's done this so many times that it's like breathing, so they find a rhythm soon enough. They move with the lust of teenagers; dimly he remembers stories about parking on lover's lane in the park as a young man. She's so eager, tasting and touching and growling when he comes up for air, yanking him back into place.

Her teeth are in his bottom lip, he tastes a bright bloom of copper, and his hands are grabbing at her body, cupping her against him, and she moans, god her _moan_ might be the only thing that he could get drunk off.

Her breasts are against his chest, her body flush with him, and still, it isn't enough. He wants to drown in her, to sink so profoundly that his past and the legend of The Captain cannot reach him.

Because he isn't Captain America, not here, that title is tossed away as quickly as his shirt is, somewhere behind them when her quick hands pull it up and over his head. Here it is Steve, whose eyes close for a moment when she presses her body to his bare chest. It's Steve who intends to be gentle when he tips her head back for another kiss, but it is also Steve who devours her mouth, who lets their tongues duel for dominance.

It's not enough though. There can never be enough of this fire that's threatening to burn them both as he swallows up her cries and pants when she palms him through his jeans. Natasha does shove him now, but it's down onto the bed, and then her mouth is back on his, and his hands are on her waist, traveling down. He grabs a handful of her, kneads and groans when she sucks at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. When she pulls back, he is bereft and panting, sitting up on his elbows to watch her.

The former spy straddles him, sits up to pull her shirt over her head and undo her bra. It's black lace, something like silk but nowhere near as sleek and touchable as the supple flesh beneath it. Her demands are hoarse, murmured in his ear before she bites on his neck and let her teeth scrape over the spot she sucked earlier. He should be gentle, and he should take his time. He must be kind. He must be decent. This is what is expected.

But he is hungry and aching, and she has no qualms with stating her demands.

 _Touch me, touch me, right there, touch me_

A former soldier, he was trained to follow orders, and the training comes back now, his fingers are going beneath the waist of her jeans, probing and thumbing over her most sensitive places and she's crying out, arching against him and rocking into his hand. His mouth finds her breast, teases and pulls the nipple hardening between his lips before sucking, and she mewls again.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's trying to slow down, chiding himself for maybe taking advantage but those thoughts are just as quickly replaced when she licks her lips, sets a pace against him. Her breathing grows ragged as she uses him, she's somewhere else chasing pleasure instead of here at the moment. They are not together, it is her, and it is his hand being used as a prop. There is no sharing and no connection.

He doesn't like it.

He flips them over, and there is the hunger, there is the knowing in her gaze when they lock eyes for a brief moment. And he pushes a little more, his hand is brutal in its pace and punishing in its intensity — one finger, and then two that slide down her walls and massage her folds. She's growing wetter as time passes, sliding down his fingers with ease. He puts his mouth back to her chest, lets his teeth bite on her nipple the way he wanted to before.

She is flushed and writhing; her noises guide him. There is the brush of the thumb over her hooded bundle of nerves, then deep and then he pulls away. There is one finger and then a flick of three and then one, and then he is crooking two at just the right spot, and his tongue is plunging into her mouth kissing deeply, greedily.

As his hand takes her body she climbs up that precipice and falls over the edge; he's already there pulling at her pants, pushing her panties aside.

There is no time to breathe; everything is frantic and roaring inside of him as he sinks into her wet warmth. She wraps herself around him, their mouths meet briefly, but it's too soft, and he groans when her teeth cut into his shoulder again. Her nails are in his back; then they're sliding and leaving scratches in their wake that will leave Mark's by morning. He shifts, he's gripping the headboard to rise above her and thrust, and there is no sharing here, he's taking what he wants.

Over and over, he moves inside her, feels her tissue grab and pulls at him, her body clutching at his. They are in synch, the same way they are on the battlefield. He thrusts, in and out and into Natasha and out again, grinds against the spot that makes her shudder and her breathing hitch.

There's a sheen of sweat over both of their bodies but the feeling is incredible, she's sighing out his name, chanting it like a prayer-

 _Steve oh god Steve, Steve_

Her hair is a halo on the pillow when he looks down at her again, and her eyes are closed, it makes him angry for no good reason other than he is taking what he wants and he wants all of her at that moment. He wants to see the former spy come undone. So his voice is a growl, even while he tugs and pulls at every sensitive part he can reach, he wants her ecstasy and his name on her lips. He wants to see her eyes.

"Look at me, Natasha."

He gets his selfish wish.

She's gasping his name out in his ear and then calling it out while the bed rocks and squeaks under the power of their coupling when she bows back nearly in half. But her eyes lock onto his, she doesn't close them when she quakes and _ahh, ahhhh- oh God ahhh Steve_

He sees it then, that glimmer past Black widow and that fracture of light tucked under Nat, there is a piece that she has tucked away. Because he isn't a mark, not now and the Black Widow mask has been put away for the night. They both are bare, and there are no rules here, no one's expectations but their selfish longing.

That little bit is enough, her cries and her nails in his back are _real._ The instinct and the roll of his hips and the press of her ankles in the small of his back it is all so frighteningly, wonderfully _real._

She keens, and then she is shouting for him. Her body clamps down on his, his tongue is lapping at the warm hollow of her throat, and she refuses to let go so that they are melded together as he rides her.

And he lets himself go.

He groans out her name, "Tasha.." as he spills into her and collapses, hips likes waves lapping at a shore as they come off their high together. He is still trying to catch his breath when she begins to move when she stops because his arm is hugging her waist.

"Stay." He says one last wish. One last thing just for himself, maybe.

And she stays. One last thing just for herself, maybe.


	13. Chapter 13: That first morning

**CHAPTER 13: That first morning**

The shower was running behind a closed door when he woke the next morning.

Still half asleep and limbs lazy, he stretched against the sheets and enjoyed the scratch of fabric on his -

 _You're naked. I'm naked, why am I-_

His earlier contentment went right out the window as memories of the previous night, and Natasha's orchid scent lingered and grew stronger the more he woke up. His clothes were nowhere in sight. He assumed they'd been scattered around the room when he and Natasha were... Distracted.

A glance under the covers confirmed it, not a stitch of clothing in sight. No Natasha in view either. Beside him, the sheets were cool to the touch which meant she'd vacated the bed some time ago and-

"Oh, you're up."

Was coming into the room. The spy was coming out of the bathroom, into the room in nothing but a towel. He scrambled to cover himself with the bedsheets while she scrubbed at her hair with another towel, seemingly not noticing when the one wrapped around her body began to slip.

"Yeah.. good morning." Was what he managed to get out.

"Shower's open." She continued, as easily as if they'd just finished one of their training sessions. He watched her lean over a chair and rub lotion into her calves and legs, his mouth going dry before he pushed those thoughts away. There was no place for those kinds of thoughts about a teammate, even one that he had-

"You should get cleaned up. We need to be on the road soon."

Fraternized with.

He took a deep breath before meeting her eyes, straightening up and looking as stern as he could while nude.

"We should talk first."

"About?" Her towel did drop then, though it appeared to have been intentional. She continued to rub lotion into her body while he attempted to look everywhere but directly at her.

"Last night. It- It shouldn't have happened Nat." She paused, and he quickly continued, "Not that it wasn't- .. Enjoyable. It was. But I'm not the sort of guy to sleep around, and we're teammates besides." Shame was eating at him as he remembered his rough behavior, his wild and demanding attentions from their night together.

"I took advantage of you, Natasha. I'm sorry. It won't happen again" He admitted grimly. He deserved her ire, whatever form it might take but instead, her response was a small smirk.

"Oh is that what that was?" She asked, amusement openly coloring her tone while she pulled on her undergarments. Somehow the scraps of fabric hugging her figure made him squirm more than when she'd been entirely bare. He focused instead on the bruises along her side, mentally preparing to insist she rest and knowing full well she wouldn't.

"Yes." He insisted, refusing to let her distract from the importance of the matter. "You were trying to help me work through something, and instead of hearing you I practically attacked you."

"Color me impressed." She quipped. He glared, and she sighed.

"You needed to take off the edge. I've been there before. It happens." She told him. The glaring continued, while his elbows went up on his knees and hands clasping one another in thought.

"Then I take a jog or go to the gym. Not…" He blushed.

"Fondue?" She suggested, snickering when his head snapped up.

"Who gave you access to that file?!" He demanded, nearly rising to get answers and just as quickly sitting back down. He needed to find his clothes...

"Nobody had to." She smirked and finished toweling off her hair. It was drying into curls. He'd never realized that was its natural state.

"Look, you needed something to get you back on track, and it worked, right?" There was still so many things he didn't know about her. Would probably never know.

"I took advantage of the kindness of a friend. I know an apology can't make it right but-" He was cut off by her coming to the bed and straddling him.

"Hate to break it to you soldier, but you couldn't take advantage of my pinky." She tilted his chin up, eyes critical and gaze intent as she searched his face.

"What are you-"

"You weren't focused on our task. You were too much on edge, and _that_ could have gotten one of our own hurt. So you blew off some steam. Have you seen yourself yet this morning?" She continued her study of him, nodding at what she saw. "You're more alert now. Loose. That's a good thing. It'll keep us alive and out of trouble." He hated to admit it, but as she released him, he knew she was right.

For the first time in a few days, he felt clear-headed and relaxed. Muscles were no longer tight balls of anxiety wound up, and his insides felt steady again. But something else was nagging at him, and it was the Captain's turn to take a second look at his companion.

"You keep saying you." She was getting back up, and he held her face, hand around her wrist.

"What are you-" He ignored her attempt at a scoff, staring her down and mentally running through their conversation.

"You keep saying you. _You_ needed to blow off steam. You needed to take the edge off. A little one-sided don't you think?" She didn't back down. She wasn't the sort. But her lips pursed and her eyes flicked down to where he was holding her before going back to his face. He wasn't sure he liked what he saw.

"You didn't want to." He murmured, hoping she would deny it and wondering what he would do if she didn't. He'd been so sure she was there in the moment with him. Had his eyes deceived him?

"I didn't say that." She tried to get up again, but he wasn't letting go anytime soon.

"Talk to me." He ordered softly. He could see the wheels turning, watching the curtains go down, so her expression was carefully neutral.

"We don't have time for this." She said instead.

"Have you ever thought of me in that way? Are you even attracted to me? Or was last night another one of Widow's stunts?" He needed to know. He couldn't have been so gullible as that. He would have known if she didn't want him, he would have stopped.

Wouldn't he?

"Look-" She was going to try and feed him a line, he _knew_ she was going to try it.

"Just tell me the truth, Nat." One eyebrow went up, and he released her.

"If you'd let me get a word in I might be able to." She pointed out. When he managed to stay quiet, she shrugged.

"We weren't discussing me. But I like a good workout now and then myself, and we both needed one pretty bad I'd say. It happened, we don't need to make a thing of it."When he continued to stare at her, she licked her lips.

"Steve... I'm not just going to tell you what you want to hear. You know that. We've never been the kind of team where I don't call you out. And if I didn't want to sleep with you, I wouldn't have. " He nodded and released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Her solemn gaze grew coy once more.

"And let's just say…" Her lips tilted then, and she leaned in, mischief increasing as their lips nearly brushed against one another.

"I was a little impatient for that tour you kept promising." Something that had been winding itself up eased inside him, and it was enough to make him smile back in relief.

"To be honest, I think we might have rushed through it a bit." He joked. Now both her brows were raised, but she didn't give him time to take it back.

"Are you suggesting I didn't get my money's worth, Rogers?" She asked coyly. He tried to focus on his breathing, grab ahold of his control tightly as his body began to stir.

"I'm _saying_ that a gentleman would have courted you first. I should have taken time to stop and smell the roses so to speak." She could get him every time. He hated that he was probably blushing now.

"And Captain America is a gentleman, isn't he?" She pushed him back against the pillows, raising her body to toss the sheet keeping their bodies separate aside. "Well either I get a refund or another tour, it's only fair. Isn't that what you're about?" Her smile grew downright sinful, all but purring when she rubbed herself against his rapidly hardening length.

"Natasha we have to think about the team. This isn't where our focus should be, and we shouldn't- uh…" He should have been stopping her, not blushing and stammering like a schoolboy. This situation wasn't the norm for him, and he'd been raised with old world values. Sex wasn't something to be taken lightly either and really they shouldn't-

"You're welcome to close up shop for the day." She offered, easing off her underwear with the grace of a dancer. She'd probably posed as one at some point or another, but it was still impressive all the same. Just as quickly she was back on him.

"Nat-"

"Do you want me to stop?"

She paused, had her body braced just above his. If the choice was made now to continue, this was bound to affect things, and they _would_ have to talk. He wasn't into sharing that intimacy with another and having it mean nothing. They hadn't been on a date yet, would she even want that with him? There was an excellent chance that this was a terrible idea.

Pre 'civil war' Steve would have gently turned her down, found a way to right the situation and discuss things then and there. The before him would have put the innocent masses first. Their team would come next, and their friends third with a thought spared in his direction perhaps.

But that wasn't him anymore.

"No." He admitted.

She nodded, brisk and businesslike before leaning down to leave open-mouthed kisses on his chest. Her tongue flicked out, words low when his breathing hitched.

"You know, I get that it's probably been a while for you, you being from the stone age and all. But in these modern times, girls don't have to do _all_ the work old man." She snickered when he scowled down at her.

"You're going to pay for that." He promised.

"God I hope so."

 **Ten minutes later, she was getting her wish when the phone rang at a decidedly inopportune time.** Pausing to catch her breath, she reached out and snagged the annoying device.

"Go." She listened briefly, making an mmhm noise and putting a finger to her bed mate's lips to keep him quiet. "We're fine. We left the scene almost right after it happened." He huffed at her in reply, attempting to sit up and was just as quickly nudged back down.

"We found a place for the night" Her hips swiveled, the finger pressing more firmly to stifle a moan and nodded, though whoever was on the phone couldn't see her. "We'll brief you later, but we're fine. Cap is just stiff, and I need a good stretch. Right." Hiding a smile she hung up and stared down at a very huffy Steve.

"I can't believe you did that while you were talking on-"

"It was Barton, it's fine. He's going to retrieve us in forty-five minutes, check out is in thirty so let's make this quick Rogers." She tossed the phone back onto the nightstand, and as agreed, they walked up to the meeting site in record time.

 **Alright little Darcy's, where is this going? It's a bit hard to think someone isn't going to catch feelings sooner or later, right? Any thoughts? Review and let me know!**


	14. Chapter 14: Update

**CHAPTER 14: Update**

Clint was already waiting at the agreed spot, sitting in the driver's seat of a beat up

black Buick Enclave in need of a washing. They slid in, Cap in the front and Natasha in the back with a moment to buckle themselves in before Clint was pulling out and driving away.

"The others didn't come along?" Steve confirmed. Clint shook his head, checking his mirrors when someone honked at them.

"No, Sam's keeping an eye on things. I didn't know what the status would be so we figured it would be better this way. Speaking of, where do we stand?" He cut off the loud honker and shot up the lane before taking a left and heading down another busy street.

"We've got a folder and a USB, but we don't know what's on there," Steve told him. His eyes flicked to the mirror again, looking back at Natasha.

"I mean with Stark. Where do we stand?" He repeated. This time Steve and Natasha shared a glance before she shrugged.

"He wants us to work together. We did alright, yesterday when it counted." She said with a hard stare in the Captain's direction. Steve was careful to avoid everyone's eyes, opting instead to look out the window. Wisely, Clint said nothing about the pointed remark, choosing instead to keep his gaze on the road.

"Have you heard anything official yet? Numbers, reports?" She continued, finally easing up her death stare.

"Four dead, nine injured-" He began, flicking on his signal. He'd caught Steve's attention again, the super soldier turning quickly enough to lock his buckle into place.

"Have names been released? Of the victims who died?" Clint nodded grimly.

"It was all over the news this morning. A jogger, an off-duty cop, a college kid playing ultimate frisbee and the ice cream man himself." Steve sagged back into his seat, the little boy's mother must have survived. "I'm surprised you didn't catch the broadcast. Were we looking for something in particular? A clue we might have missed?" His friend prodded.

"No I- I just wanted to be certain we had all the facts." That same weariness was returning, or perhaps it was grief. He kept seeing a child's tears and could still feel the phantom grip of a dying Benjamin. For as much as it pulled at him, was this the same weight Tony was carrying on his shoulders? He knew you couldn't take this all with you. What they went through was liable to consume you if you allowed the guilt to sink its claws in too deeply.

And yet. Tony had a bad habit of doing precisely that. And self-medicating the morning after. Steve thought back to the pictures his old friend had shown him. What good could that do, except serve as a punishment in photos? But perhaps they all were performing their ways of offering penance. Tony with his photographs. Clint by caring for Wanda. He and Natasha were giving one another a hollow sort of comfort, even while they tried to save the same people who would condemn any other day.

He was brought out of his musings by a sharp jab in his lower back that felt suspiciously like Natasha's foot. She feigned innocence when he glared back at her though, looking out the window with a little hum.

"So they're fine, though Wilson is raring to go. We didn't watch the reports much longer because Wanda came down and she wasn't really up to seeing that." Clint was saying. Right, he must have been giving updates on the team. Steve needed to be paying closer attention.

"How is she? Has she said anymore since we left? I had hope that her pressing me to bring Natasha was a good sign." Steve asked, latching onto the end of his statement. Clint signaled and hopped on the freeway, taking a second too long to answer for the Captain to be comfortable.

"Barton. What about Wanda?" He asked again. Clint's jaw set and for another long minute, they drove in silence.

"She saw the reports. It brought Lagos back to her." He admitted. Natasha sharply inhaled while Steve tried to work out what effect that must have had on the fragile mentality of their friend.

"A flashback. Are you talking about a flashback? Is she alright?" Again, Clint's teeth clenched, as they so often did when talking about the pain the girl had gone through.

"Yeah, a flashback. She's- she's not well right now Cap. Started asking for you. Watching the news reports... It caused a panic attack, and you know how her powers shoot off when her emotions get ramped up. I should have heard her come in, but she's so quiet that I think she could catch you unawares Nat." He looked in the mirror at the former spy in the backseat, and she nodded for him to go on.

" Fortunately, the only one to take any damage was the kitchen window. We've got it just about repaired, but Wanda locked herself in her room and won't come out until she sees you." He explained grimly. Steve's own heartfelt about the same and Natasha was the one who had to break the looming silence.

"Drive faster, Barton." Was all she said. And he did.

 **Clint had somehow nabbed a small private plane for their return trip home.** Steve decided not to ask questions, which was rapidly becoming the norm for his new team and instead thought ahead to how he would help Wanda. He was still thinking on this when he dozed off, with sleepy musings of another memorable plane ride. Funny that that should have a connection to a Stark as well...

"Is he going to be able to do this?" Clint asked once the soldier was asleep. Natasha looked at the sleeping man and Clint could have sworn he saw a softening in her gaze before she answered him.

"Yeah. He and Stark, that's a personal thing. Steve wouldn't let personal get in the way of the greater good." She answered honestly. Clint nodded, watching her watch Steve.

"Something is different there Nat." He muttered. She shrugged, sitting back in her seat.

"We're all different now Barton. Just gotta find out if it's for the better or not." She sipped the water they'd been given, staring out the window and avoiding his knowing gaze.

"You know what I mean." He continued. She did, but he would never push for answers that she wasn't ready to give just yet.

"Right now, our focus is stopping our target and getting Wanda back to herself. She's no good to anybody if she can't focus or compartmentalize." She insisted. The clouds were low; birds flew past on their wing power. How long had it been since she just sat and looked out a plane's window?

"You don't mean that." He scolded. She wanted to scowl back at him and nearly did. But he was right, and they both knew it.

"What's her condition? Really? You cleaned it up for Rogers, what happened?" Her sharp-eyed gaze moved over his face, landed on the puffing at the corner of his lip and the healing cut. He felt her eyes and rubbed at the wound.

"She got a hit in, just the one. When the window exploded." He admitted.

"Is she dangerous?" Natasha continued calmly, checking her nails.

"Not intentionally. But we need something to steady her. I don't think she'll be ready to handle this mission, and not the next one and maybe not even the one after that. She needs to heal Nat. What they did to her.." He trailed off, and for the second time in as many days, Natasha found herself offering comfort as best she could. When she reached out and touched his arm, she could see the shock there in his face when he looked up at her.

"It's like I told Rogers, we'll work things out. We're different people now. We've got some training and learning to do." She told him. He nodded briefly, and both were equally surprised when he covered her hand with his own.

"Laura says hello." He told her quietly.

"Baby Natasha?" She teased lightly if only to break the somber mood. It worked, somewhat. His lips tilted up, and he shook his head.

"NATHANIEL is still waiting to see Auntie Nat again. Which means we need to both make it back home." He reminded her. Again, that touch of softening. And yet, it was gone before she returned to her seat.

"Yeah, I guess it does." She stretched, then rose and began to search the overheads. He saw her eyes flick over to Steve's sleeping form and pretended not to notice when she threw a blanket over him that she'd found in one of the compartments. She pulled down another, and he decided a prompt was in order.

"Think I can get one of those?" Her answer was to chuck it at his face and snicker at his yelp before pulling down a third for herself and curling up under it.

"I'm dying your hair pink while you're asleep." He threatened. Her reply was a flash of silver, the promised threat of bladed twin knives that she'd stored somewhere on her person. Prepared as always.

 **"Hey Cap you're back!" Scott shook hands with him, while Sam gave him a brief bro hug and clapped on the back.**

"So? We finna go beat some inhuman ass or what?" Sam prodded, while Scott cowered from the death glare that Natasha threw at him for her amusement.

"Nat, can you fill them in? I want to-" He started, but she nudged him up the stairs before the sentence was complete.

"Call if you need back up." She told him. He nodded back and headed up the stairs to the witch's room. The trek was a quiet one, as was the rap of his knuckles on the door.

"Wanda? It's Steve. I'm back." No answer.

"Clint said you were asking for me? I'm sorry I wasn't here, I wanted to get some more information on this mission Stark was proposing. Are you alright?" He continued. Her reply was the door opening with a slow creek to a mostly dark room with only sunshine from the shaded window bringing any light.

"Wanda?" He peered around the edge of the newly opened entrance, smiling sadly at what he saw.

A swirl of red had everything in the room spinning, the bed flipped over and the nightstand having been thrown somewhere against the wall opposite where it usually was. The dresser was tipped, the clothes hanging in the closet were in heaps around the room and glass from the nightstand lamp was dangerously close to Wanda's hands braced on the ground under her.

In the center of all this was the Scarlet Witch herself. Half of her was in shadow, the other bathed in sunlight and the red swirls of it all, she was like a beacon, glowing to lead the way.

He took a step in, and let the door close behind him. He would follow her trail. They would talk.


	15. Chapter 15: Cure for what ails

**CHAPTER 15: Cure for what ails**

"Wanda. It's Steve. I'm here." He repeated, putting an arm up in front of his face. She twitched, and the swirl became frantic, dizzying in its dance and flinging things this way and that.

"It's okay Wanda. I'm here. You aren't alone." Steve promised. The sentiment only seemed to make things worse, as the remains of the lamp were hurled in his direction.

"Wanda. I know that the reports upset you. It must have brought horrible things back, and I can only imagine what that feels like. We've all done things that haunt our past." He inched closer, ducking the comforter.

"But those things of the past, they weren't done with malice. They weren't done to intentionally hurt anybody. Not in Lagos and not whoever's doing these things now. The accords-" He began and nearly missed her whimper.

"They were my fault." She said.

"Wha-"

"The sudden silence of her powers ceasing to lash out was deafening. But after a moment to adjust, he made his way over and sat down beside her, carefully brushing away the glass.

"The accords were my fault. Everything that happened, between you and Stark. The fighting and now the hiding, Clint and the others and all of this it- it's my fault. Because of Lagos, because of what I did." She whispered.

"Wanda-"

"You cannot say to me it isn't Steve. If I hadn't-" Her voice faltered, but she pressed on, refused to give herself even an inch. "If I hadn't caused the deaths of those people, then there would be nothing to take account for. The accords, the outcry, all of it. I caused our team, our _family_ to dissolve, do you realize this Captain? All of it is my fault and then when I receive punishment for my crimes I retreat into my mind-"

Steve had listened passively for long enough. He took her hand then, made the girl look at him.

"What they did to you on the raft was cruel and _wrong_ Wanda. That wasn't a punishment for your crimes, it was a means of control and was overkill to boot." He felt a little sick to his stomach, to think he had so blindly given himself to the very people who could do such a thing to a hero they ought to have been thanking.

"But I-"

"You made an honest mistake. It cost lives and yes, that is something you're going to have to learn to live with. But you weren't the reason we came apart the way we did. And at the end of the day, you fought for what you believed to be right. Just like Tony and his side did. Just like we all did." He added grimly. Her eyes welled up, lower lip trembling and again, he was reminded of how young she was. Still a child in so many ways and forced to grow up too quickly with no one but bastards and sadists to guide her.

"C'mere." He nudged her into his arms, rocking her when she finally let herself weep against him. It was a purging of emotion, massive and dark enough to send things flying around the room once more. But he held on, keeping her tucked safely against him in the center of the storm.

"I thought - I thought perhaps I could be happy. That someday there might be a meaning higher than me, but one that served the greater good." She wailed.

"I know. And you did that. You helped thousands-" Steve tried to reassure her, but she shook her head against him.

"Natasha told me, she had red marks in her ledger that she wanted to clear. I thought I could do the same. But they were right to put me away-" She sniffed as he offered her the handkerchief in his pocket, wiping her eyes when he smoothed her hair.

"No, they weren't. You were part of our team, and you still are. If you were truly a bad person, you wouldn't be affected this way about everything that's happened." He promised.

"You- you think so?" She sniffed again. He smiled briefly, giving her a little squeeze.

"Yeah, I do. We can only do our best, and it's all anyone can ask of us. I know you're a good person Wanda. But what I think you need now, is to find a way to let go of that guilt." He rose, then helped her up and looked around the room.

"Come on. I'll help you clean up." He went to pick up the lamp, and she stopped him, a hand on his arm.

"I want to help our team Captain. I don't want to be weak anymore, and I want to heal." She insisted, meeting his eyes. Her tears were still there, but they were drying, and she was beginning to steady herself,

"If you want to heal, you have to forgive yourself for the past. Recognize that you made mistakes, but they don't define you. You're going to have to do that first." He cupped her cheek, a kind smile warming her insides.

"Could you do that, for the team?" He asked. She nodded, and his smile widened.

"I've got every confidence in you." She offered a shy smile in return and then looked up, towards the closed door. Steve frowned before grabbing the tipped over trash can.

"What is it?" She shrugged, picking up bits of glass with her powers and carting them off into the can.

"I thought I heard something." For a moment, they continued to clean, before she took in a breath. "Did- Did Stark mention anything else about the others? Any- any updates?" She was too casual in asking for him not to hear where her thoughts lay. Still, Steve didn't want to make assumptions.

"Rhodes is healing. I think he's in physical therapy; Tony tells me that he's fitted him with a new sort of prosthetic." He offered. She nodded, absentmindedly making the bed with a few flicks of her hand.

"That's- that's good to hear. And Stark, he is…?" Steve shrugged.

"He's the same old Tony. He's not sleeping. Probably not eating. And staying hydrated with anything but water." He hissed in pain as an unusually large shard from the lamp dug into his hand.

"Captain!" Wanda reached for him, cradling the giant hand in her small ones even when he tried to pull away.

"It's barely a scratch-"

"We should clean it. It could get infected if not properly cared for." She insisted, a soft glow of red surrounding the piece still embedded. "This will probably be painful, tell me if you need to stop." With careful precision, it began to slide out of his palm. Rogers didn't make a sound. The fact alarmed Wanda all the more.

"Now you sound like Vision." He finally mumbled as it dropped to the floor. Their eyes met, there was an apology on his tongue that was bitten back while she pressed a pillowcase to the wound.

"I betrayed him. Of all our friends-" She murmured.

"Wanda-"

"Before Clint and I came to meet you. He tried to keep me there, with him. I thought it was because Tony had ordered him to act as some kind of bodyguard but-" She chuckled bitterly, tying the case tight to staunch the bleeding. "He'd taken that task upon himself. I see that now. No one asked him to stay by my side. Isn't it funny Captain, all the things we notice when they no longer are within our sight?" She looked down at the hand she was still holding and brought it to her lips. But it wasn't his hand that hurt the most. Blood was left on her mouth, and it was at once nightmarish and comforting. Her gaze was too knowing, too soft. Almost motherly.

"It's not polite to look into people's minds." He reminded her sharply. She kissed his wrapped hand again.

"My mother used to do this when Pietrov and I were small. A kiss for us, to heal our hurt. A kiss for herself, because when you care for someone, their pain is also yours." She explained quietly.

"You might be able to see him again. I think if we work with Stark, I can get you that much. But you don't have to fight Wanda, not until you're ever, not if you don't want to." He promised by way of answering.

Wanda smiled up at him, and he wondered if Bucky had ever felt how he felt now. Proud and sad and worried and protective of someone smaller than himself, who trusted him implicitly. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and gave her a brotherly peck on the forehead, leaving her to clean and in search of a first aid kit.


	16. Chapter 16: Strategy

**Chapter 16: Strategy**

Steve had never actually been able to grab a shower earlier in the morning, and so he went to his room and took one now.

He let the water run, hissing in pain when the hot droplets splashed over his wound but focused on getting himself cleaned up. The chat with Wanda had been helpful in more ways than one and was unexpectedly soothing. He was beginning to feel more like himself, not quite so raw and cold in his middle.

He took a while to luxuriate in the soaps and hot water, letting it soothe aching muscles and wash away the last dredges of self-loathing for the time being. Wanda had shared something precious with him, a memory from her past. She so rarely talked about herself, but then, neither did he. The entire team was a roomful of strangers. They'd been brought together in times of violence and pain, and here were the aftereffects.

As Steve scrubbed shampoo into his hair, he tried to consider what he might do to help. Wanda was perhaps the most obviously changed and affected, but the others had suffered too. Clint was the next one he should speak to. The man was, for the most part, focused on healing Wanda but didn't have nearly as much to say about himself. Maybe he could see about taking a walk with him, or doing some of the grocery shopping? They could pick up some milk and bread and then talk on the way back.

He rinsed his hair, and soaped his body up, cleaning his cut while he followed this train of thought. He could make a list, and order the points he wanted to address with each person. Then, he could figure out a way to achieve some one on one time with each and go from there.

As the water was turned off, he took another moment to consider his plan. Presumably, if they could steal a few moments here and there for a heart to heart, then he might be able to nail down what was bothering each person the most. And a bit of insight couldn't hurt. It was odd that before this, he'd never realized how isolated each Avenger had kept their thoughts and emotions.

He liked that he had a plan and Steve liked feeling in control again. He could help his team; he could fix things. Maybe not in the way expected, but helpful nonetheless. Towel wrapped around the waist, he nodded at himself in the partially steamed mirror and briefly took in his reflection.

He was getting a five o'clock shadow, and if he wasn't careful, it could grow into something more. But Natasha hadn't seemed to mind when they-

He still couldn't think about it with blushing.

His face was red as he turned away, rubbing a towel at his still wet hair and stepping out into his room. With all the times Natasha had shown up in his space, he shouldn't be surprised to find her here.

That didn't make it any less shocking.

"You ought to knock!" He scolded, clutching the edge of the fabric falling off his hips. She glanced up at him and continued to look through the manilla folder, documents spread out on the bed and sitting cross-legged, a pillow at her back. _His_ pillow, now he'd have her scent in his nose all night...

The thought should have disturbed him.

It didn't.

"Why, worried I'll insist on another tour? Don't worry Cap. I haven't made my bank run yet. I'm fresh outta dollars right now." She replied, flashing him a small smile. He ignored his heart speeding up and instead focused on his new destination, the dresser for clothes.

"Raincheck I suppose. What did you need?" His back was to her, and so he missed the rise of her eyebrows, but she had returned her gaze to the folders by the time he turned around again.

"I wanted to see how your talk with Wanda went. And we need to go over the information that Tony gave us, see if we can find any correlations in this guy's behavior or if the assailant might be establishing a pattern." He nodded, excusing himself into the bathroom to haul on a pair of sweatpants and wifebeater before coming back out and sitting across from her.

"Where should we start?" He asked. Natasha shrugged.

"Team first. We can't do anything if they're a mess. " She reminded him. He nodded and described what had happened when he went into Wanda's room. Everything from her powers flaring to her thoughts on wanting to heal up. Wisely though, he left out the bit about Vision. The way he saw it, the woman was owed that small bit of privacy at least.

When he was done telling his story, Natasha contemplated him.

"She trusts you, quite a bit." She commented finally.

"I guess so...?" He replied uncertainly.

"We can use that. Make sure we stay on the inside and keep up with where Wanda's mind is going. She needs an outlet, and it seems to help, talking to you. Clint too, we can get him on in this. I think that would be the best course of action." He fought back the sigh of relief he wanted to let out when she explained her meaning, as the thought of "using" any of his friends didn't sit well with him.

Ironic, considering what he had used Natasha for.

"Okay. I'll make sure to keep in touch, try for conversations every day." He agreed. "I also think I should be checking in with the guys to make sure they're steady. They went through just as much as we did." Natasha nodded, leaning back against the pillows.

"It's a good idea. If we can keep our finger on the pulse, we might be able to get a handle on things. I don't want Wanda going on missions yet. She's not ready to be back." She told him. He nodded.

"Glad we agree. Now about the folder, Stark said it's only got part of our information. He gave us that USB, but I don't know how we're going to be able to see what's on it." He considered the little white rectangle, blinking when Natasha reached down into a bag she'd brought into the room with her and pulled out a laptop.

"I know a guy. Did some work for him" She said by way of explanation.

"Oh. You did- you worked for him?" He knew how it sounded, and from the look, she threw his way, she'd heard the same edge to his tone.

"You might say that. Jealous Rogers?" He wanted to tease back, and he tried to ignore that churning in his stomach. So instead, he reached out for the folder.

"You wanna take a look at the USB, and I'll go through the files?" He said as a way of replying. She watched him for another long moment before shrugging and plugging in the USB, typing out a passcode when the laptop screen lit up.

"We'll look through things and reconvene in ten minutes." She decided. He nodded, and for a few moments, there was silence as each began their tasks.

"Did she do that?" She suddenly muttered, eyes still on the screen.

"What?

"The cut, on your hand. Was that Wanda?" She repeated.

"She broke her lamp. I accidentally landed on the glass. It's alright. I cleaned it when I showered." He tilted his head, watching her lips purse and fingers tap on the keyboard just a little bit harder.

"It's alright. It hardly even hurts, it just stung a little when I cleaned it." He continued, trying to reassure her. If he didn't know any better, he might have said she was concerned. But then again, he did know better, and he'd promised himself he would begin to pay more attention to his friend's worries.

"I don't want to run the risk of infection. We can't afford distractions." She rose to get their emergency kit, stopped by his hand catching her wrist.

"Steve." They both looked down at his hand, still holding onto her.

"I don't want you to worry about this. About me. I'm okay, it's a small cut, and it'll heal fast." He smiled, and her head tilted.

"I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about trying to spin a story to an ER doctor when it gets infected, and you're too sick to bother trying to be a good liar. Which you're already terrible at by the way."She tried to turn away again, but he wasn't finished.

"I mean it. I'll be okay. Are you alright? I know you care about Wanda." He finally let her go, and she sighed, returning her attention to the laptop.

"She's doing better, and we've figured out how to help her. The next step is finding a safe place for her to support herself while we sort out Stark's problem." She typed a few more things in, not meeting his eyes.

"Right...but you didn't answer my question. Are you okay?" He was hoping she'd give him a straight answer. Maybe the events of last night had affected him more than he anticipated. Romanoff wasn't much for group sharing. But maybe-

"I want to focus on our job." She replied. His fingers twitched, he wanted to stroke the soft curve of her cheek and hold her in close. He wanted to say "I want to focus on you" because she was his friend and she always inherently knew what points to push, what parts to massage and the edges to soothe. He wanted it to be his turn.

"What's on the USB?" He said instead. Her lips upturned and she turned her focus back onto the screen.

"Video files, documents, and official reports. It looks like there's a map here too, displaying the attacks and distances between each spot. So far as I can tell, there are no solid suspects, but that's just the preliminary look over. I want to look through everything first and see what we have." Steve nodded and looked at his folder.

"Maybe we look everything over and then break for lunch. Afterward, we get the others involved, get them working on pieces of the puzzle. Whoever this guy is, he's had to have left some trail behind. Nobody's perfect, and he's doing it in a very public way so what's that tell you?" He asked. She nodded thoughtfully.

"He's no professional. His agenda is too big, and the bombs aren't well contained. But there's been multiple bombers and based on what we saw in the park, and he's got a strong mental fortitude. He had to, to be able to control everyone like that when we were attacked. Right? So where is he coming into contact with these people? The will to live is one of the most difficult things to overcome in a human target." She noted Steve's questioning gaze and explained, "If he can easily take their minds then these people are already susceptible to weak wills. Where do you find a human ready to take direction and be a follower, without their even realizing it?"

Unfortunately, Steve didn't have the answer to that.


	17. Chapter 17: Fast talker

**CHAPTER 17: Fast-talking**

 **Sorry about the wait little Darcy's, I took a short hiatus to work on the manuscript I've been writing. I've been trying to revise it thoroughly. Not to mention, the writer's block is the worst! But thank you if you're still reading I appreciate it :D**

"YOU WERE _RIGHT_ THERE!" Ross shouted. Tony shifted, trying not to snap back at the Secretary of state. He'd been hauled in almost as soon as the scene at the park was cleared, directly to a video conference with the angry man. Now he stood alone in one of the many offices in a government-sanctioned building, glass doors allowing him to see the hustle and bustle still carrying on outside.

"Sir, if I could just-"

"No, you _cannot_." Ross snarled, all but purple with outrage. "You were right there Stark. You had Captain Rogers in our sights and our bomber within five hundred feet. Somehow here you are, no Rogers and no bomber. Not to mention another handful dead, a park that we'll have to remodel COMPLETELY and-"

"And your plan failed, sir. Exactly like I said it would." Tony cut in sharply. He should have hit his call button and had Steve brought in. But there had been enough going on as it was, and truthfully it left a bad taste in his mouth. Underhanded listening at the door and ambushes wouldn't help anyone.

"You've got a lot of nerve-" Ross began, but Tony cut him off again.

"Look, Mr. Secretary. We don't have Rogers at the moment. I said we needed to do this my way, and put out a better hand of cards on the table. But there was no guarantee your men would be able to handle him anyway, and I seriously doubt he'd be much in the mood to lend a hand if we locked him up." Everyone had their price. They hadn't yet figured out Steve's. But Ross was beginning to get a gleam in his eye that Tony didn't like.

"No, I don't suppose he would. But I seem to recall you saying you could, quote "get a handle on this" and so far you're letting your country down son." His gleam turned into a smirk, head tilted and voice pretending to be thoughtful. "I think I remember you saying the same thing not too long ago before your team fractured. You promised you could bring your teammates in to face the courts. Now, look where we are. No teammates. No solutions in sight. If you think bringing Rogers in won't help, then what use is he? I won't negotiate with a _terrorist_ Mr. Stark."

Tony's stomach dropped. A few rapid blinks and a shift of steps, straightening of the shoulders and he was back under control. He would not let Ross see him sweat. He would _not_.

"Terrorist is a pretty strong word, Mr. Secretary." Labeling Steve as a terrorist threat? Ross could take that straight to the president and in turn the United Nations. There wouldn't be a safe corner in the entire world.

"Of course. Vigilante? Enemy of the state? Public en-" The Secretary was beginning to enjoy himself now. In a gesture of placating, Tony held out his hands.

"My point is, there's a better way of going about it. You want him to work with us, but you want to catch the bomber more, right? You and I both know how the public's perceptions can affect a situation. What we need to do is give them an image that _we_ craft, of having the situation entirely under our control." Ross eyed him but waved a hand for him to continue. Tony took a seat, feet up on the table and arms folded.

"Look, the fact of it is there are still people who believe in Rogers. Now isn't the time to address that. You catch the Bomber, seems to me you can work with that next election season, couldn't you?" Ross's jaw worked, but it was enough. "So we give a little now, and you can take what you want later. Strategy Mr. Secretary, that's all this is. A game of strategy. You want Cap then you need to hit his pressure points. The Raft was the wrong angle." He announced.

"Oh, you disagreed with the chosen course of action? Even when we allowed you a visit with your former teammates? Incidentally, have we yet discovered how Rogers found The Raft?" The older man shot back. Tony wasn't one to back down, but he was beginning to learn how to pick his battles. This battle wasn't one he wanted to go up against right now.

"Then, it didn't get the results you wanted. But suppose we try a different tactic? What if, we try tossing his guys a bone or two, see if they pick up the trail?"

"MR. STAR-"

"You got em on the run, but you're after the big fish. Toss the little ones back. You know Rogers is a soft touch when it comes to them." He continued, spitting out the words without leaving breath for argument. "Cap knows how to talk to people, hell they had him recruiting to fight the Nazis General. Is it that much of a surprise he was able to draw them in?" His mouth was dry, and quite frankly a whiskey sour would have hit the spot right about now. But he kept pressing, feet dropping to the ground even while Ross protested.

"Mr. Stark these people are on the run from the long arm of justice. They committed a criminal offense by aiding and abetting Captain Rogers and-" The old windbag was beginning to sound like a broken record and Tony could almost see why Rhodey refused to attend meetings with him unless called in by name.

"And you think they did that without a pep talk? C'mon, who did he have?" He began to tick off the points on his fingers. "A retired marksmen probably just needing a bit of action-"

"That 'retired marksmen' broke into one of your compounds and proceeded to damage a national resource-" Ross reminded him.

"Vision isn't anybody's resource. He's a-"

"And on _top_ of that he then took Miss Maximoff who at the time was in the center of a murderous controversy-" He swallowed a snicker when Tony shot up in his chair, his smirk returning.

"She's a _kid_. She made a mistake, these things ha-" His pulse was speeding up again, and the cold sweat was returning. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"She's a former partner with a being who nearly destroyed life as we know it. Besides that, she was the cause of multiple deaths during-"

"It was accidental, and the courts ruled it that way. I'm not saying she's a complete innocent but Barton was no longer under military command, and that ant guy was at best a lowlife criminal who got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time." He paced for a brief moment and then shrugged.

"Wilson is a guy with PTSD who's working on his issues, how's that going to look when a vet with PTSD is being hunted down for trying to help his fellow man?" He needed to get things back under control and get a handle on this, Steve had asked what was in it for the team, and he would give back to them. He had to. Romanoff had always played whatever side was useful, and Steve Rogers was a self-righteous asshole, but both had stayed to help in that park. As he thought back to their conversation, Tony had the startling realization that he'd misheard the Captain.

" _What's in it for my people?"_

He hadn't asked, "what's in it for us?" He hadn't said, "we're fine where we are." Every request had been for his team. Never himself. And as much as Tony wanted to be angry, he-

"Mr. Stark, am I boring you? Or is there another reason you're standing there with that stupid look on your face?" Ross sneered, interrupting his train of thought. He could taste copper in his mouth from biting his tongue but tried to refocus.

"Collecting my thoughts general. If a way could be paved for these men to come back-"

"Come BACK?!" The secretary's bark of laughter seemed to echo inside his skull, and Tony's fists flexed in agitation. "If you think I'm willing to show any sort of leniency to-"

"Barton and the others!" Tony met his opponent's gaze, hoped like hell desperation wasn't pouring out of his eyes. "Not Cap, just them."

Ross raised an eyebrow and huffed but seemed to be considering his plea.

"Things aren't always what they seem. People wear different masks for different occasions." Tony pointed out. Ross's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, they certainly do, don't they Mr. Stark?"

Not liking the current new appraisal he was being given, Tony quickly pressed on. "Barton and the others were no real threat and opportunities are there."

"Agent Romanov is a threat. And she's no 'child' as you said of Miss Maximoff. She fully knew what she was doing."

The Widow was there with Steve. The pair had already teamed up before the so-called 'civil war,' she'd essentially become the Captain's right hand. During the fight, even after Rhodey and even when they'd been so close, Natasha had shown her true loyalties. In fact she'd been giving him updates on their missing friends, hadn't she? And when it came down to it?

She'd made her choice.

"If we were to offer _any_ sort of plea deal or bargain, she would not be eligible." Ross decided smugly.

It wasn't him. It would never be him.

Tony was no one's first choice or even their last ditch effort.

"Understood. Romanov's in the same boat as Cap. But Barton. Lang. Wilson. I've worked with them, read up on them. They deserve their peace. In the end, they deserve it." He wasn't going to get his family back. There could never be forgiveness. But there didn't have to be.

"I suppose something could be arranged. However, Captain America and Black Widow are to be captured on sight and taken into custody. For the good of the people." He announced grandly.

"And Wanda?"

"To be determined. I'll see about finalizing deals for the others. Good day Mr. Stark, we'll be in touch when we decide on your next course of action." He logged off, and the call ended, leaving Tony alone.


End file.
